Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates
by Meghanna Starsong
Summary: With the passage of time and a long endured silence from Van, Hitomi finds the strength to put distance between Gaea and herself. As an adult, Hitomi hopes for nothing more than a normal life, but a supernatural force continues to interfere with that wish. As a powerful darkness threatens Gaea, Hitomi once more finds herself pulled towards the arms of an angel and war.
1. Part I, EARTH: Chapter 1

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter One"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine; however, I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: In Japan, the high school system is three years long. Students begin at the age of 15-16, and their last year is from the age of 17-18. The name of Van is pronounced "Ba-hahn" or "Vaughn" and not like the vehicle. While Hitomi's grandmother remains somewhat unknown, I chose to call her Yuri based off of the shoujo manga.

Edited 6/1/2017: I corrected some grammatical errors and condensed certain passages for better flow. If you notice any other issues, please feel free to let me know. I'll continue to work hard to improve this story.

"""""""

Hitomi opened her bedroom window on the second floor and paused to take in the scene below. The sun hovered low in the west and cast a golden sheen onto fenced lawns, Lego-block buildings, and tidy streets. The Kanzaki house, unlike the surrounding suburban neighborhood, was a simple, two-story cottage. Its white paint and trellised greenery lent it the feel of something out of a fairy tale. The old maple tree in the front yard swayed in the twilight breeze, which also tangled Hitomi's short, brown-blond hair. Cars honked at one another a few blocks over, and two kids walking a dog down the street let out peals of laughter.

Hitomi grabbed the tree's nearest branch with her left hand and braced her right on the windowsill. She hoisted herself onto the ledge of the roof and climbed its peak like a spider on a slanted web. The bottoms of her shoes scraped across the rough shingles as she crawled up. At the roof's summit, she swung a leg onto the other side of the triangular crest and straddled it. Hitomi sat quietly atop the world and watched the sun's colorful farewell.

It was not until the first stars spangled the sky that Hitomi moved. She crammed her hand into her pocket and pulled out a tattered, grayed feather. It was long, at least thirteen centimeters in length, with a bristled tip. One might think it came from the wing of a great bird, perhaps a wild goose or an eagle. Only Hitomi knew this feather was not from Earth. The eighteen-year-old closed her eyes and recalled another spring sunset four years earlier.

"""""""

"Grandma! Dinner's ready!" Hitomi, home from track practice, called from the front door. She had just finished her bath, and her hair was still damp. She combed her fingers through it, thinking that she might cut it soon.

When Grandma Yuri didn't reply, Hitomi walked across the lawn to the old lady. Perhaps her ears were acting up, and she hadn't heard Hitomi. Grandma Yuri, a tiny bird of a woman, was seated in a wooden chair beneath the maple tree. Her gray hair was gathered together and pinned in place by an enamel flower ornament. The fine mass flowed to her waist like cobwebs. She wore a loose, blue dress with a long skirt. Tucked around Grandma Yuri's shoulders was a green shawl that she had crocheted herself. Her spiral cane was propped up next to the chair within easy reach.

Hitomi stopped next to Grandma Yuri and waited for her presence to be acknowledged. The silence between them stretched on. Grandma Yuri's aged face was turned up to the sky, the creases in it deepened by the waning sunlight. Together, they watched the heavens change from orange, to watermelon, to crimson. Grandma Yuri pulled her shawl closer to ward off the dying day.

The old woman's husky voice surprised Hitomi. "Can you see it?"

"See what, Grandma?" Hitomi folded her arms across her chest and scanned the sky. There was a ghostly moon and a splattering of stars through the city's smog. "What're you looking at?"

"Next to the moon, Hitomi. A little to the right. Do you see it?" Grandma Yuri sounded impatient.

She shook her head. "A star? An airplane?"

Grandma Yuri sighed and leaned back into the chair. "Do you remember the story I told you?"

"Which one? There were so many, Grandma." Hitomi smiled to herself. "You told me stories about Aunt Hiroko and Mom as girls, when my parents met, and even when you were young."

"When I was about your age, I was coming home from a summer festival. I wore a beautiful yukata. I had begged and begged my father to buy it for me."

Hitomi recognized this story. "Yes, and you met a strange man. A foreigner, right? You told me he was older than you. With a fuzzy mustache and-"

"Eyes as blue as the ocean," Yuri mused quietly, almost to herself. "Such sad eyes."

"Wasn't there something like lightning?" Hitomi volunteered.

Grandma Yuri huffed at this description. "If it had been lightning, I wouldn't be here. No, it was like a river of light. It carried me to a mysterious place far, far away."

"What was the man's name, Grandma? I forgot it."

"Leon. Leon Schezar."

Hitomi never knew what to make of this story. As a child, it had amused her imagination, yet as a teen, it seemed outlandish. No one could travel to another world in an interstellar beam of light. Grandma Yuri bringing it up now made Hitomi worry she might be going senile.

"So, what about that old story?" Hitomi asked.

Again, the heavy silence came. A lonely cricket chirruped nearby. Hitomi heard the "swoosh" of her grandmother's gnarled hand caressing down her cane. The chair complained as the old lady bent forward and painstakingly stood. She teetered, using the cane to balance herself. Hitomi put a steadying hand on her shoulder. Grandma Yuri patted Hitomi's hand and hobbled off in the direction of the house. Her granddaughter followed close behind.

"Because I see the place I went to in the sky tonight," Grandma Yuri responded at last. "I only can during times of trouble and change."

Hitomi frowned. "Change?"

"Yes." They made it to the circle of light cast by the house's open door. Grandma Yuri paused here. Half of her face was in shadow, hidden like the dark side of the moon. "I believe that I will die soon."

"Don't say such things!"

"It's true, child."

"You're quite healthy according to Doctor Sakamoto."

"Bah. That quack. No, I know my own body." Grandma Yuri's right hand tightened around the cane. The knuckles sat atop it like an eagle perched on a branch. "I'm old. There's no shame in aging. I've lived a good life and been more fortunate than others."

"You have years left to live," Hitomi stubbornly insisted.

Grandma Yuri's left hand went to her sagging bosom. A delicate, gold chain sparkled across her chest. A pink glimmer from the small gem attracted Hitomi's attention. Her grandmother's fist closed around the stone, as if drawing strength from it. "I feel I will not see you enter high school."

"Grandma!" Exasperated, Hitomi squeezed the old woman's forearm. "Stop it!"

"I want you to have this." Grandma Yuri grasped the chain and raised its loop above her neck. She left it dangling in the air, swaying hypnotically back and forth between Hitomi and herself. "I've been meaning to give this to you. I believe it's time now."

Hitomi felt a little panicked. As if controlled by an outside force, her own arm rose, hand cupped up. Grandma Yuri lightly dropped the pendant into her palm, the gossamer chain cool, the ruby gem sparkling like fire.

"I-I can't. It's your good luck charm. It means so much to you," Hitomi whispered.

Grandma Yuri stroked her cheek. She tucked a flyaway tendril of Hitomi's hair behind her ear. "As do you, child."

"""""""

Tears swelled in Hitomi's blue-green eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She frowned at the still poignant emotions and rubbed the moisture away. Hitomi lost her grandmother, Yuri Hoshino, just weeks after having received the pendant and, as predicted, before entering high school. Back then, she hadn't understood Grandma Yuri's pillar of light or how special her keepsake truly was.

Now Hitomi did.

What followed Grandma Yuri's death was an adventure beyond description or forgetting. It all began with Hitomi breaking the taboo of reading for herself and asking the tarot cards if Amano was her true love. When she selfishly pursued him, even after the cards warned her away, the pendant changed her fate, whisking her away to a world at war. Sometimes, Hitomi wondered if it had all been real, the dragon, the pillar of light, and the young king of Fanelia.

Grandma Yuri's planet was called Gaea, the Earth's neighbor from a parallel universe. Thousands of years ago, the dying Atlantis civilization opened a wormhole in time and space. Through their combined psychic energy, the Atlanteans formed the planet in its infancy and settled there to live in peace. Over the generations, the destruction of Atlantis and the terrible technology behind it faded from the collective memories of the Gaeans. All that remained was a tale passed through the centuries and a prejudice against Draconians, the descendants of Atlantis's most powerful subjects.

For several months, Hitomi journeyed through Gaea. She admired its beautiful landscapes, met interesting people, and adjusted to its strange customs. However, she also encountered the horrors of war and a legendary guardian, Escaflowne. She witnessed the slaughter of innocents, the razing of countries, and warriors pitting themselves against each other. Her pendant, tarot cards, and visions both guided and hindered Hitomi and her friends. Among her allies were the zealous Van Fanel, boy-king of Fanelia; the dashing Asturian knight, Allen Schezar; the elegant princess of Asturia, Millerna Aston; the trickster Catgirl, Merle; and the cunning merchant-prince, Dryden Fassa. Together, they fought and defeated the tyrannical Zaibach Empire.

While on Gaea, Hitomi longed for Earth and the comfort of home. In the beginning, she clung to the image of Amano to help her cope, but she eventually turned to a more tangible comfort, Allen. While pining for Allen, Van and Hitomi bonded during their shared trials. Theirs was a friendship forged from survival, kindness, and mutual respect. For a while, Hitomi was torn between her fascination with Allen and her burgeoning attraction to Van. Her uncertainty was a weakness that Zaibach manipulated. Through several fate experiments, Zaibach pushed Hitomi and Allen together in an attempt to stifle the gravity between Van and herself.

After everything they suffered through, all the fighting, lies, and politics, Van and Hitomi's hearts finally synchronized in Zaibach. Beneath the sickly light of Emperor Dornkirk's Fate Alteration Machine, they embraced, carried by his wings. While the last battle of the Gaean war raged, Van and Hitomi lost themselves to a single moment of love. It was this love that conquered the power of Zaibach's machine and mankind's wish for destruction. In the end, Gaea was spared, the machine dismantled, and the war concluded.

Just as Hitomi had realized her feelings for Van, it was time to go home. They both yearned for her to stay, but each agreed that they had responsibilities and growing up to do. Hitomi had a life and family on Earth, and Van had duties to Fanelia. She entrusted him with her grandmother's pendant, the key to the power of Atlantis. With Escaflowne disabled and Fanelia in ruins, she hoped it might protect him. Van drew her close in response and held her in a farewell hug. They cleaved to one another, weighing oaths and obligations against their newfound love. Ultimately, Van pulled back, and the column of light returned Hitomi to Earth with one of his feathers, a parting gift.

"""""""

Hitomi roused from her reverie of Gaea when the wind blew strands of hair into her face. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. It was truly night now, the moon in the sky and the stars twinkling wanly. Her legs complained from being in the same position and her backside was numb. How long had she sat on the roof in the solitude of her thoughts?

She returned to the feather in her hand when it rustled with another gust of wind. It was a pale memory in her palm, an echo of lonely nights. Although now ashen and frail, the feather was not always so timeworn. During Hitomi's first year of high school, the feather had shown like a polished moonstone. By using it as a medium, she had spanned the distance of worlds and bridged realities.

Freshman year, Hitomi and Van communicated through telepathy and dreams. Sometimes, standing at the train station, she caught a flash of his onyx hair and received a whisper of his feelings. When she slept, the messages were the strongest. Van and she could manipulate the dreamscape they shared and show images of what they spoke of. They kept each other updated on the events of their lives, the completion of a new district of Fanelia, a favorite class. The emotions between them endured despite time and space. The yearning never abated, only grew to a razor's edge with the passing of weeks, months.

But, there was a price for such potent dreams.

While Hitomi's body rested, her mind did not. She dozed off at meals and fell asleep during classes. Purple smudges formed beneath her eyes, and the teen lost a considerable amount of weight. Her dreams and reality blended together. Each felt real in different ways, now the pain of a cut on a finger, now the brush of Van's feathers on her cheek. Her desire for the visions of Van threatened to consume her. She reached for him always, like a junkie needing a fix from a beloved drug.

Hitomi's grades, which had been good, dropped. Her teachers organized a series of meetings with her. Fingers wagged in her face. Papers with bright red marks were shuffled before her. Some teachers coerced, others shouted. In response, she further withdrew from their tirade and the outside world. Hitomi quit the track team, too tired to run, too weak to care. She also left chorus and declined a solo spot for an upcoming competition. Singing used to give her joy, but she could not summon her voice after Gaea. Her tarot cards lay abandoned in a desk drawer. When her fellow students inquired about a reading, Hitomi floated by as if in a trance and pretended not to hear them. People stopped talking to her and whispered in groups when she was nearby.

Only Hitomi's oldest friend, Yukari, remained steadfast. Yukari invited her on outings to movies and dessert parlors, which were often declined. She stopped by Hitomi's house unannounced, school notes in hand, a worried expression on her face. She chatted away about Amano, who left for England, and the emails and letters they exchanged. Yukari never said it, but Hitomi suspected that something interesting was happening between the pair. She acted engrossed in her friend's conversations and hints of a blooming romance, but it all just exhausted Hitomi more.

When nothing penetrated haze, the school involved Hitomi's family in the meetings. Her alarmed parents had already noticed her strangeness. Her mother wondered why Hitomi ate so little when she used to wolf down whole meals and sweets. Now, eating a bowl of rice and a few slices of fruit sustained Hitomi for an entire day. Her father, during one of his home repair ventures, dropped a hammer near Hitomi. He asked why she cowered in a ball on the floor and screamed. Mamoru, Hitomi's brother, called her a lunatic and avoided her in public.

Even the tone of Hitomi's precious dreams changed. Vivid colors grew muted and sharp features blurred. She emerged into the dreams sooner than Van and often waited for him to arrive. He came through what appeared to be a fog stretched across a chasm, his posture grim. He was worried for her and frequently pointed out the thinness of her appearance and her moody behavior. She clutched at him during those latter dreams, unable to explain anything. To comfort her, Van manifested his wings and wrapped them around Hitomi like a guardian angel.

 _I'll be fine_ , she assured him through all the chaos. He gave her his lopsided grin and said no more.

Then Van vanished altogether.

Hitomi stopped seeing images of him during her waking hours. His thoughts no longer brushed tenderly against her own. When she slept and sought Van in dreams, she walked into an eternity of nothingness. Bereft, Hitomi called and called for him, but he never came, never answered. She did not even hear the sound of a wingbeat. Her treasured feather ceased shining, the edges tearing. It appeared to age in a matter of days. The teen lost all sense of what was real and what was not.

"""""""

Yes, even three years later, the loss of Van hurt.

Hitomi braced herself on the roof, thighs tightening around the peak. Pain knifed through her heart. The pangs, though sharp, lasted only briefly. When they ceased, Hitomi raised back into a sitting position, her right hand clutching the feather to her chest. If she let herself think of Van, there was always physical discomfort, sweaty palms, heart palpitations. As the years had passed, it became easier to endure them.

A fuzzy cloud passed before the moon, blanketing the land in darkness. Hitomi remembered Gaea, its unsullied oceans, deep forests, and jagged mountains. She remembered the war with its tangy smell of blood, the heat of fire blazing, and the clang of swords crossing. She remembered the faces of allies and enemies. Mostly, she remembered Van, sweating from sword practice, the coarse red fabric of his tunic, his gruff honesty.

Hitomi steadied herself. She inhaled and exhaled deliberately, methodically. No, she was here, on the roof, for a reason. Today was special. This was an important moment for her. She had to see this through and recall everything.

Her downward spiral concluded during a freshman physical education class. The spring weather was warm and balmy, so the girls were outside running relays. Hitomi, dizzy from a lack of food and distraught over Van's abandonment, asked the teacher to let her sit out. The burly teacher blew his whistle and assigned her to the first race in retaliation for her weakness. Hitomi was the second runner for her team. She took the baton from her classmate, attempted a few shaky paces, and collapsed like a marionette with cut strings. In the distance, she heard shouts of alarm, but everything for her was black.

She found herself back in the landscape of her dreams, except this place was not the starlit paradise Van and had she built. It felt cold and was as murky as a swamp. Hitomi was not alone this time. Someone waited for her with a knobby cane and bird-like features. Grandma Yuri, as the old woman Hitomi was most familiar with, hobbled to her granddaughter, her countenance serene.

"Grandma!" Hitomi trilled and threw her arms around the newcomer. Unable to help herself, she teared up and sobbed into the old woman's bony shoulder.

"There, there, child. So many tears," Grandma Yuri soothed and patted the teenager's back.

"G-Grandma, I miss you," Hitomi hiccupped.

For a time, Grandma Yuri simply let her wail and cry self-pitying tears. A storm raged within her, all hideous clouds, buffeting winds, and stinging rains. Its wrath was terrible; but when it ended, as all storms do, Hitomi felt cleansed of some of the negativity.

Embarrassed, Hitomi pulled away from her grandmother. She took a breath and met the other's gaze. She beheld not the elderly woman, but the girl she used to be. This was the image of Grandma Yuri's spirit on Gaea, the beauty Leon Schezar met a lifetime ago. She wore a sapphire yukata with its salmon-colored flowers. In her right hand, the cane was replaced by a pinwheel, its blades whirling in the ghost of a breeze. Grandma Yuri the girl was small and petite, her gestures refined and lady-like. Her once gray hair gleamed nut-brown in twin braids. Only her emerald eyes remained the same, bright, laughing.

"You must believe, Hitomi," Grandma Yuri said, her maiden's voice sweet.

Hitomi's brows drew together. "Believe in what?"

"Silly girl!" Grandma Yuri laughed. It tinkled through the gray haze. "In yourself!"

"I'm not sure I can. Something isn't right with me." Hitomi shook her head. "I can't tell what is real or a dream. Is it Earth? Is it Gaea?"

Grandma Yuri's pinwheel spun faster, faster. "It doesn't matter what is real or not real. Both are the same."

Hitomi sensed an outside force interfering with the vision. Some unseen current tugged at her, wanting her to awaken. In response to this insistent force, the fog thickened around Grandma Yuri and Hitomi. It grew increasingly difficult to pick out the spirit's slender form.

"I don't understand!" Hitomi called into the leaden clouds. She waved her hands through the vapors, hoping to catch hold once more of Grandma Yuri.

Grandma Yuri's words resounded liltingly through the dimming vision. "What is reality but a dream of a dream?"

"Grandma! What about Van?" Hitomi was fading, fading.

"Believe in yourself, Hitomi. Believe and the stars will help you."

"""""""

Hitomi never saw her grandmother again after that vision. She believed that the woman's spirit found peace. In return, Hitomi realized she must do the same. This night was about that. Her memories of the last three years had led her to this point, to this choice.

She pressed on with remembering.

It was a gentle smacking on her cheek that roused Hitomi from the dream. Back in the land of the living, three faces peered down at her, the nurse, her mother, and Yukari. The agitated nurse ordered Hitomi home, muttering about anemia. Her mother accepted Hitomi's duffel bag from Yukari, and they drove to the Kanzaki house, mute and introspective. Hitomi spent the remainder of the day sleeping and thinking. As her mother prepared dinner, she tromped down the stairs and announced in the kitchen that she wanted to see a psychiatrist.

Upon the recommendation of a family friend, Hitomi began visiting Doctor Rika Ishigawa. She was a plump, middle-aged lady with a cheerful disposition. She diagnosed Hitomi with post-traumatic stress disorder. During their multitude of sessions, Hitomi never spoke of Gaea, although a part of her yearned to. On a couple of occasions, she mentioned having vivid dreams of another world to Doctor Ishigawa. These dreams the psychiatrist interpreted as an escapist fantasy and nothing more. No, Hitomi kept Gaea, the war, and Van locked away inside of her heart. She might touch on subjects related to them during her counseling sessions, but she dared not voice her story.

Somehow, Hitomi managed passing grades, just barely. She proceeded onto her next year of high school. Most of the summer break was spent in Doctor Ishigawa's office in private and group counseling with her parents. Progress was slow, but Hitomi overcame the PTSD, although symptoms occasionally resurfaced. With the support of her psychiatrist, family, and Yukari, she returned to a semblance of herself before Gaea.

For the remainder of high school, Hitomi immersed herself in her studies. Despite a disastrous freshman year, she raised her grades and claimed a spot in the top fifteen percent of her class. Yukari talked the track coach into reaccepting her onto the team. It paid off when Hitomi beat the thirteen-second record that had previously eluded her and carried her school to a victory. Rejoining chorus proved more challenging. The instructor warned Hitomi that missing a single practice would result in being kicked out permanently, and she would not receive a solo spot ever again. For two years, Hitomi attended practices religiously. The instructor, feigning nonchalance, assigned her to sing the lead in the spring festival before graduation.

Hitomi's classmates remained distant towards her. If not for the cheerful Yukari, she would not have interacted with anyone from school. They kept her isolated, as if her fight with PTSD were an infectious disease. Occasionally, Hitomi overheard her classmates gossiping about her, but she faked indifference. When a couple of brave souls asked her to read their futures, she merely smiled and announced having given up the hobby.

The cards proved too much of a burden for Hitomi. Shortly after starting sessions with Doctor Ishigawa, she folded a cloth around the cards and banished them to a metal lock box. That box she buried beneath Grandma Yuri's maple tree.

That brought her to the present.

Today, Yukari and Hitomi graduated from high school. They ironed and starched their brown uniforms for the last time. As Hitomi sat through the outdoor ceremony, she tuned out faculty droning through speeches, twitchy students, and creaking metal chairs. She enjoyed the shade of cherry-blossom trees, the sweet scent of their blooms, and a sky so blue it hurt. Hitomi looked out across the sea of faces in the audience. She saw her mother beaming proudly, her father scratching his balding head, and Mamoru dozing off. Once more, she realized her life was changing.

Yukari would attend the same Tokyo university as Amano in the fall. She wanted to be a school teacher and already had a gig as a daycare assistant. Amano, an engineering major, lived in a cramped apartment with two roommates. He moved there before graduation in order to stay in Japan with Yukari. Mamoru was entering high school himself, and somehow, he had managed to snag himself a decent girlfriend. Hitomi's parents were discussing a second honeymoon somewhere in Europe.

Tonight, after the ceremony, Hitomi's family offhandedly inquired about her future plans. Her father wanted her to attend college and become an accountant, whereas her mother suggested she get a part-time job. Mamoru kindly reminded her she could move out and give him the larger bedroom. Hitomi hadn't known what to say. Suddenly, the world seemed so big, and tomorrow was too soon. But, according to Doctor Ishigawa, it was time for her to move forward and to take charge of her life.

So, she would try.

Hitomi looked down at the delicate feather. Perhaps the love between Van and herself had been meant for only one moment, for one world, for one purpose. Could she honestly say they might still care as deeply for each other three years later? They would be different people now with different experiences and different views. Maybe it was best for her, and for Van, if Hitomi let go of the past. Van's silence all this time could be his way of telling her to do just that.

Tenderly, Hitomi kissed the top of the shabby feather and released it. The wind blew the feather out of the harbor of her hand. She squinted into the night and saw a glint of light as the feather disappeared. "Goodbye, Van," she murmured.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Two"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine; however, I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: I imagine the older version of Hitomi filled out to look more like the movie character design. : )

Edited 6/1/2017: Grammar and cohesion fixed in places. If you notice anything else, please let me know. Thank you!

"""""""

Twenty-year-old Hitomi posed, damp from a shower, in front of a full-length mirror. Golden sunbeams slanted through the west window of her studio apartment. The light draped a gossamer veil across the apartment's furniture and her scattered belongings. This same lemony light touched her as she inspected her towel-wrapped body.

Hitomi's face was oval with a rosy mouth and a straight, sure nose. There were purple smudges from sleepless nights of studying beneath her azure-green eyes. Her lashes were blond tipped and eyebrows neatly plucked. In her early twenties, Hitomi's shape was that of a woman, hips rounded, breasts well-developed. She no longer had the body of a gangly, teenage athlete. She tucked her thicket of honey-brown hair behind her ears. It was short and layered, reminiscent of her youth, but in a more polished style. Only two patches of hair, resistant to any manner of flat ironing or hair spray, stuck up like antenna on the top of her head.

In the fading sun's glow, a pair of tear-drop shaped emeralds shimmered like dragon scales from Hitomi's ear lobes. The earrings were a gift from her last birthday. Yukari had watched her sighing over them through the window of a jewelry store for months. Originally, Hitomi had hoped to save money from her part-time job to buy something similar in look. However, the secretive Yukari had pooled money from Hitomi's parents, Amano, and herself. They had surprised her during a dinner with the lovely gift. Since receiving them, Hitomi only ever took them off to bathe. In a way, they had replaced Grandma Yuri's pendant as her good luck charm.

After scrutinizing herself, Hitomi shook her head and mumbled, "I'm too normal for romance."

Her love life was anything but eventful. She had her first date after graduation while working a summer job at a bookstore. A cheerful coworker, whose name she couldn't remember, had taken her out to a movie and walked her home. He had tried to kiss Hitomi in front of her house, but she had turned her head away and darted inside. The rest of the summer at the bookstore had passed with awkward conversations and downcast eyes between the two. Thankfully, she had finally chosen nursing as a major and left home to attend university in the fall.

Freshman year, Hitomi had agreed to go on a date with one of Amano's friends, Shouji. Shouji was a thin, quiet boy with a love of drawing and dogs. Their outings had consisted of a coffeehouse and a trip to an art gallery exhibition. They had exchanged an innocent kiss, but when classes had revved up, their relationship had stagnated. She occasionally bumped into him on campus, and they might grab coffee and swap embarrassing stories about Amano. The last thing she had heard about Shouji was of his involvement with a girlfriend who studied fine art and owned a Yorkie.

As a sophomore, Hitomi found Yukari also took an interest in her love life. She had introduced Hitomi to an American exchange student, Luke. Luke had resembled a storybook prince with his burnished blond hair and soaring height. But from the beginning, he had made it clear he had no chivalric hang ups. He had no qualms about the girl unexpectedly paying for a meal, because his parents wouldn't wire him anymore money until he found steady work. Likewise, Luke had an irritating habit of checking his teeth in whatever reflective surface he came across. After their one and only date, he had phoned Hitomi for a week and whined in stilted Japanese to Yukari when she ignored him.

This year, her junior, Hitomi committed herself to spinsterhood. Sure, she might ogle a man-cake here or there, but she had no time for silly dates and boys in adult bodies. Her nursing clinicals and classes were demanding enough without having to babysit or fake interest. She assured her friends, and herself, that she did not want to fall in love.

Really, she wasn't sure she could anymore.

So, when one guy, Kagame Mikawa, started talking to Hitomi during a shared class, she was taken aback.

Kagame was a favorite of classmates and teachers alike with his easygoing attitude and caring demeanor. He was also undeniably unconventional. He wore his hair spiked up and dyed a new color every other week. He had pierced earlobes and sported a detailed tattoo on his right arm of various kami. Though a tad shorter than Hitomi, Kagame was nonetheless masculine; actually, he was ridiculously in shape.

Hitomi learned this when the class was practicing how to draw blood from a patient's arm. One of their female classmates had a phobia of needles. She, not surprisingly, had fainted when her turn came. Kagame had kindly carried her to the doctor's office on campus. In the process, his shirt had ridden up and revealed an eight-pack that put any athlete's to shame. Half the class, male and female alike, was in lust with him after that.

Hitomi had overhead different rumors about Kagame from her love-struck classmates. It seemed he was the only son of a bank president, and he had graduated from a prestigious private school. He took kickboxing lessons, and unlike his fellow students, he didn't need to work but had a part-time gig at a flower shop anyway. His father was very supportive of his choice to be a nurse. He paid for Kagame's off campus apartment and the sports car he drove.

Kagame was way out of Hitomi's league. She never expected three days ago that he would ask to exchange cell phone numbers. She did not anticipate a morning of texting and a pleasant phone conversation in the evening. At the end of the call, Kagame boldly inviting Hitomi out to dinner never crossed her mind. She surprised herself the most though by agreeing to meet him at a restaurant near the campus.

Hitomi's cell phone chirruped from her bed. The boxy contraption vibrated on its side and flashed "Yukari" across its grayed-out screen. She hesitated to pick up the call. Hitomi knew Yukari was simply cheering her on and excited for such a rare date. Truthfully, since Yukari and Amano got married last winter, a gap separated Hitomi from her best friend. It was difficult for her to relate to Yukari's dreamy expressions and talks of newly wed life.

For Amano and Yukari, love seemed so easy, so natural. Then again, they were a fated couple, weren't they?

Yukari and Amano had a modest ceremony last December right after Hitomi's birthday attended only by their closest family and friends. Yukari had worn her mother's old wedding gown with a few alterations, and Amano had rented a tuxedo for the evening. The decorations had been simple and hand-made, flowers minimal, and cake small. Some of Yukari's acquaintances from college had commented on the "cheapness" of the affair. As her maid-of-honor, Hitomi had felt it was her duty to accidently drop a cup of punch on the girls' shoes.

When the time came for Yukari to throw her bouquet, a gathering of snarling females had competed for it. Even the girls with sticky shoes had aggressively elbowed rivals aside and hopped about trying to catch it. Yukari, with back turned, had tossed the bouquet up in a beautiful arc. It had soared over the hissing and spitting females to land in Hitomi's bewildered arms. Envious women had glared at the white daisies Hitomi cradled and shunned her for the remainder of the reception. Yukari still enjoyed teasing her about the incident.

Fortunately, Yukari was usually too busy with her daycare job and earning a teaching degree to poke too much fun at Hitomi. Her husband, Amano, was equally occupied. He attended morning classes, waited tables at a small café in the afternoon, and poured over engineering texts at the library in the evening. Once or twice a week, Hitomi managed to meet with the pair for a meal. It was even rarer for Yukari and her to have an outing by themselves.

With a sigh, Hitomi strode to her bed, perched on the mattress, and picked up the cell phone. A jeweled charm of a four-leaf clover dangled from it. She pushed the charm off the screen and touched the "talk" button. Yukari's excited voice bubbled from the speaker.

"Hitomi! I haven't heard from you all day!"

She winced at her friend's loudness. "Hello to you as well."

"Seriously, what're you going to wear?" Yukari trilled. "Oh, I wish I hadn't switched shifts with Yoko. I could be there helping you get ready."

"It's okay. I'm a big girl," Hitomi smiled and assured her. "I can tie my own shoes."

Yukari teased back, "But you still can't walk in heels."

Hitomi grimaced. "Whoever came up with those things? They're torture devices. Nope. Won't wear them."

"You really should, Hitomi." Suddenly, Yukari was all business. "Show off some legs. How about a skirt? You could wear the shoes from my wedding."

Hitomi paled at the mention of _those_ shoes. Yukari had picked out the alien contraptions with their stabbing heels and flimsy straps. During the wedding, Hitomi had worn them to please her friend. By the end of the event, she had twisted her ankle and sported blisters on various toes. The shoes had been banished to the rear of her closet ever since.

"Oh, sure," Hitomi diplomatically replied.

While Yukari babbled on about wardrobe options, Hitomi wriggled into a comfy pair of indigo jeans. She balanced the phone on a shoulder and skimmed her hands over the sleek fabric of a teal blouse. She yanked where the material stuck on her bra and tweaked the three-quarter sleeves.

"So, what's he like?" inquired Yukari.

"Oh, who?"

"You know who! The guy. _Your big date_."

"You mean, Kagame." Hitomi chuckled at Yukari's impatience. "Well, this is what I know about him-"

Back at the mirror, Hitomi fluffed the tips of her hair and glared at the twin antennae that she could never flatten. She divulged all the information she could remember about Kagame to Yukari. Her friend made several "harrumphs" and "ah has."

Hitomi dabbed on a light amount of foundation. Normally, she avoided makeup aside from a bit of mascara and eyeliner. Since this was a special occasion, she thought it was a good idea to make use of the arsenal Yukari had supplied her with. "So, what do you think?"

"Um, he sounds…okay." Yukari's voice held badly concealed doubt.

"I know that tone. What's the matter?" Hitomi congratulated herself on her makeup skills. It took talent to apply mascara and juggle a phone simultaneously.

Yukari replied uncertainly, "It's just that, ah, doesn't he seem a bit…extreme? He sounds more like a rock idol."

"He's very nice." She outlined her eyes in a dark brown pencil. "He helped a guy search for his contact lens last week."

"Yippee. A punk rocker good Samaritan," Yukari sarcastically responded. There was an awkward pause between the friends. "What ever happened to Luke? He was cute and exotic."

"And the vainest human alive," Hitomi shot back.

"You say this Kagame is pretty well off, but I think Shouji is, too."

Hitomi rolled her eyes as she zipped up her charcoal-colored boots. "Did you forget? He has a new girlfriend."

"Oh," squeaked Yukari.

"Anyway, I don't think love should be about money or looks. If I like someone, it's because he's a good person. There's got to be something special between us."

"You're right," Yukari admitted. "I didn't marry Amano for diamond rings or his rugged good looks."

"They're not really that rugged."

"Oh, really?" laughed Yukari.

Hitomi shook her head. "He still can't grow a beard."

A car horn honked from outside her window. Hitomi peeked through the lace curtains and saw it was the taxi she had called for an hour ago.

Relieved to end the conversation, she apologized, "Sorry, Yukari. My taxi is here. I better be going."

"Have a nice time with the rocker. Just don't get too close if he starts head banging while you eat."

"Haha. Talk to you soon." Hitomi snatched up her black canvas messenger bag, dropped her cell phone in it, and looped it across her body.

The taxi honked again as she locked her door and descended the staircase. She flagged down the yellow car just as it was about to pull away from the apartment building. The driver was a middle-aged man with a balding head and greasy t-shirt. His sour expression was his only salutation. Once inside the car, Hitomi noticed the stains on the seat and how the car reeked of rancid cigar. She ducked her head, mumbled the address of the restaurant she was meeting Kagame at, and buried her nose in her shirt collar. In response, the driver chewed on his fat cigar and peeled out. She tried to crack the window for ventilation and realized that the handle was broken.

It was going to be a long ride.

Hitomi suffered through the noxious cigar fumes for twenty minutes. Her throat was raw from coughing and her eyes watered. The driver stoically ignored her discomfort. A couple of blocks away from the restaurant, she signaled for him to let her out. He sulked as she paid him the amount owed on the meter. When she refused to tip him, he squealed the car's tires and merged back into traffic. She cursed the driver and wiped her eyes with a tissue from the messenger bag.

After that, she proceeded in the direction of the restaurant. The plum twilight had washed out into a turquoise-sable evening. The city lights were on as bright as miniature suns. Hitomi hugged her arms across her chest as she fast-walked through the still crowded streets. It was cooler now, and she regretted not having brought along a jacket. She passed by jewel-bright window displays, stores advertising Halloween specials, and the occasional coffeehouse with its cluster of patrons. Hitomi paused at a crosswalk a block away from the restaurant and waited for it to turn green for pedestrians.

The breeze had aired out her clothes, and breathing oxygen not laced with tobacco smoke was a blessing. She inhaled deeply, grateful to be away from the taxi driver and the turd-shaped cigar. Curious, she looked at the people around her. Two crass, possibly drunk, men leered at her. She recoiled from them and focused instead on a mother with twin babies in a stroller.

That was when something the color of frothy milk spangled Hitomi's vision. She blinked her eyes, thinking it was a reflection of headlights, and shook her head. No, it remained there, lazily circling down from its celestial origin. A pearlescent sheen emanated from it. Her heart thrummed like a caged bird's wingbeats. Extending a shaking arm, she held her palm out and the feather alighted weightlessly onto it. A burst of warmth shot up her arm and then faded. Hitomi's ribcage expanded and contracted excruciatingly as she fought to breathe. She trained her green-blue eyes ahead into the street surging with automobiles and motorbikes. Standing calmly, separated from this reality, was a young man.

Shock rooted Hitomi in place. Was this an illusion? It had been years since she saw things no one else could.

No, the figure was still there.

The man had a lanky but elegant built, broad shoulders, a farmer's square hands, and a sword master's narrow hips. He was slightly taller than Hitomi, the top of her head would just reach his chin. He was clad in coarse breaches and a loose russet shirt which laced in the front. The man's face was angular, with high cheekbones and a beautifully sculpted brow line. Inky hair fell across his forehead in untidy, windswept spikes. Even from a distance, his almond-shaped eyes glinted like rubies.

The skin across Hitomi's forehead prickled. Her third eye, which she had ignored and sealed off, flamed into life. Through its second sight, she beheld the sparkling energy pouring from the man's shoulder blades. It was a pair of ethereal wings, both disconcerting and impressive. The man flapped the invisible appendages and sent crystalline feathers raining around him.

Hitomi took a reluctant step towards him, then a second, and third. She was propelled forward as if by a steel thread. Her whole body quivered, and she clenched her shaking hands into resisting fists. The hand holding the feather scrunched its flesh-like softness. _It can't be real. It can't_ , she denied the vision even as it drew her nearer.

Then the pedestrian sign changed. One of the drunks surged forward and knocked into her, breaking her concentration. Already off guard, Hitomi floundered and tumbled forward, catching herself on the asphalt with her hands and a knee. She jerked her head up, expecting the man to remain fanning his wings, but it was too late.

He, the apparition, was gone.

She lay like a crumpled flower on the street. A rebellious tear flowed down her flushed cheeks and plopped onto her angry fists. Hitomi clumsily drew her knees under her and knelt in the street. Pedestrians flowed around her like a river that had burst its dam. Some pretended as if she did not exist and so had no obligation to offer her assistance. Others, including the two drunks, snickered at her as they passed by. She gulped down a lungful of air and fought to control her emotions.

"Miss, do you need help?"

Two scuffed combat boots nudged into her field of vision. A hand extended towards her, palm up. Hitomi forced herself to follow the hand up to tight jeans, a cream t-shirt with a band logo, and a leather biker's jacket. Her eyes roamed a little higher to the pointed chin and uncertain eyes of her date, Kagame Mikawa.

"Hitomi!" Kagame, surprised, greeted her. "I didn't realize it was you."

Hitomi nodded her head and swallowed back her feelings. She accepted his hand, and his fingers closed around her wrist. With a surge of muscles, he hoisted her up onto her feet. She leaned against him for a delicate moment, dizzy, hurting.

Concerned, he asked, "Did that moron push you? Are you all right?"

"No. I'm fine." Her voice was husky.

There was suspicion in his eyes. "If you're sure, okay then. Let's get out of the street."

She mutely allowed Kagame to tow her by the wrist through the press of bodies onto the opposite sidewalk. Her vision swam from mutinous tears, shapes and colors running together. The low heels of Kagame's boots rapped on the sidewalk as he led her to the front of the restaurant. The smells wafting from its ajar door were amazing, garlic bread sticks, savory pastas, and a tang of minestrone. There was the loud buzz of conversations and clank of ceramic dishware. Someone inside laughed raucously and a group cheered. Hitomi could not bring herself to look through the restaurant door or at Kagame's face, not until the threat of tears truly passed.

"Wow, crowded tonight," Kagame murmured. He craned his head through the glowing door frame. "I didn't think it'd be this busy."

Once more, Hitomi managed a nod. She was too preoccupied with slowing her breathing and mentally begging the breeze to chill her flushed cheeks. The prickling in her eyes had dissipated, but she feared her expression was still too vulnerable, too chaotic.

As if on an afterthought, Kagame released Hitomi's wrist. Her left hand stung; she turned her palm over and saw it was scraped. Then she noticed the fuzzy edges of something glistening and white. The feather poked out from the disbelieving prison of Hitomi's right fingers, somehow whole and devoid of dirt. While Kagame was distracted, she quickly slipped it into her bag.

He turned from the inviting doorway and cast his eyes down at Hitomi's jeans. "That looks bad," he sympathized.

She blinked dumbly and glanced at her leg. The left knee of her jeans was ripped. Crimson blood oozed from a cut and dribbled onto the denim. The skin around the cut was puckered and bruised. It throbbed in response to finally having Hitomi's attention.

"Ouch."

He laughed softly. "A delayed reaction."

"I-I guess so."

"Are you really okay?" he inquired again.

Hitomi, calmer, met Kagame's gaze. "I have to admit, it doesn't feel good."

Kagame seemed to relax a little himself when Hitomi spoke more coherently. The silver hoops in his ears twinkled like shooting stars. She felt him weighing an option. He sighed and scratched the back of his currently blue, spiny head.

"You know, this isn't turning out like how I had hoped it would." He kicked the toe of a combat boot against the gray concrete. "Not you getting hurt or this place being packed."

Startled, Hitomi comprehended Kagame was giving her a chance to leave. He watched her unwaveringly, allowing her the opportunity to choose. _He really is a nice person. He knows I'm not okay. Not really_ , she sadly, regretfully, thought.

"I'm sorry, Kagame. Perhaps we can do this another time?"

"Sure. I understand." He burrowed his hands into the leather jacket's pockets. "How're you getting home?"

Hitomi closed her hands around the strap of her messenger bag. "I suppose by taxi."

"I can give you a lift. I mean, if you want. I'm parked near here."

"That'd be great," Hitomi agreed. Together, they walked companionably from the restaurant in the direction of his car.

""""""

Hitomi reached across the mattress to the nightstand and tapped the button of the rectangular alarm clock. The numbers shown eerily and pronounced the time to be two in the morning. She groaned and rubbed her tired eyes.

After Kagame had dropped her off in his red car, all she had desired was sleep. She had washed and disinfected her palm and knee, changed into a baggy t-shirt and undies, and nestled beneath her quilt. Despite it being a Friday night, Hitomi had been in bed by ten p.m. and bone-tired. She had cast aside the weekend's homework and silenced her cell phone to outside contact. She had slept fitfully for about three hours, lost in a dream which repeated the day's earlier vision.

In the end, Hitomi woke herself up panting and disoriented. She lay awake on the lumpy mattress in drowsy apprehension. She faced the window on her side and observed arrows of moonlight alighting on the hardwood floor, an upturned sneaker, a forgotten notebook. The handmade quilt and cotton sheet were deserted at the foot of the bed. Her cat green eyes gazed gravely into the night. Resting like a prism near her pillow was the feather, absorbing moonbeams and reflecting rainbows.

It was proof of the vision.

And what she desperately wanted to forget.

Hitomi tentatively stroked the feather with a fingertip, feeling its downiness. Despite being crushed in a fist and a bumpy ride in the messenger bag, the feather was unmarred, perfect. It hummed like a note of music, flute-like, calling. She withdrew her injured hand and rolled over onto her back, pointedly ignoring the feather.

It couldn't be true.

No, Hitomi didn't want it to be.

The peace of the last five years had been a hard-won victory. It had involved expensive therapy and renouncing what was once important to her. Hitomi had molded a new self while attending college and conquered a major trauma. All she wanted was to graduate from school, become a nurse, and care for her aging parents.

Today's vision, though, shattered her hopes for normalcy. That man, familiar and foreign all at once, rekindled a flame she had smothered in the deepest recesses of her heart. Although changed, she knew that the winged man was Van.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Three"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: I wanted to thank rage98, pinkdynamite, and penelopi who were the first to review this story. _Visual kei_ refers to a type of Japanese rock where the male musicians dress a bit eccentrically. (Gackt-sama! ^_^)

Edited 6/2/2017: In keeping with the recent changes, I fixed some grammar and consistency issues.

"""""""

Hitomi flipped over onto her back, spreading her arms and legs across the bed. It had been a restless night; she dozed but got no substantial sleep. The dawn approached, lightening the sky through the window a brighter gray. Though her body felt fatigued, her mind was alert. She glanced over at the glistening feather near her pillow. One last time, she grazed its length with her fingertip, entranced by its otherworldliness, and then shook her head. She yanked open the drawer of the nightstand and hid the quill away in it.

 _I can't think about it anymore. It's all too damn much_ , she swore exasperatedly.

Yawning, Hitomi cast aside her covers and crept out of bed. She trudged into the bathroom where she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. She emerged with a fresh bandage on her left knee and hunted through her clean, but unfolded, laundry for some running shorts, a sports bra, and a t-shirt. Once she was dressed, Hitomi powered on her cell phone and saw there were no new text messages or voicemails. Feeling relieved, she abandoned the apparatus on the bed. She wasn't in the mood to deal with the world yet.

It seemed like a good time for a jog.

She retrieved her apartment keys from the messenger bag and pocketed them. Out of habit, she searched for her small MP3 player. She found it on top of the table she ate and studied on amid a collection of papers and yesterday's dishes. The slim rectangle lay beside a pair of looped earbuds. She hesitated a moment, considering. Hitomi liked to jog to music, but she wanted the quiet of the early morning today. She withdrew her left hand, the scratched palm protesting. Instead, she tied the laces of her running shoes and adjusted her socks.

Hitomi locked the door and descended the stairwell of the building. She passed several other apartments where no sounds came from the inhabitants. It was not quite dawn outside. A pale darkness reigned over the sky, a burgeoning gray-lavender light. The yellow crescent moon was sinking below the western horizon. It seemed remote, somehow diminished. The streetlights still gleamed a dull orange along the residential block.

She went through a series of stretches and enjoyed the coolness of the autumn morning, although her body fought off goosebumps. It might be a good idea to change into sweat pants, but Hitomi was restless. She decided she would warm up while running. Completing her exercises, she sprinted off down her typical route.

The city was so quiet, even for a Saturday. There were no cars honking, people shouting, or yapping dogs. Only the beats of her feet on the lead sidewalk interrupted the silence. Her short, rapid breaths left her lungs starving. The muscles in Hitomi's legs nagged at her, and her knee ached from the rhythmic motion of running. It had been a while since her last workout. She did not have much time recently with midterms looming ahead. It felt good to do something physical to channel her energy.

Hitomi pushed herself harder. Her strides lengthened and quickened. She ignored the discomfort of her knee and kept pace with her pounding heart. Parked cars, street signs, and tall poles whizzed by her. She no longer felt the chill of the morning. Perspiration trickled down her forehead and chin; her clothes were damp with it.

After thirty minutes, she paused under a streetlight's glow. Her chest heaved in exertion. Sweat dribbled off of her onto the pavement. The liquid splatters reminded Hitomi of raindrops. Her clothes were glued to her like a sheath, and her sports bra had ridden up uncomfortably. She tugged at the bra's elastic band and looked around her, not immediately recognizing the scenery. Some time ago, she had ventured off of her jogging path. This neighborhood was more secluded than her block. There were more trees and houses, less apartment buildings and shops.

An obsidian shadow passed over Hitomi beneath the lamp light. As it did, she sensed the shadow's iciness, an immense emptiness. Her body went rigid, and an electric shiver raced down her spine. Was it a bird? A bat? Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder. Nothing was there except unlit buildings, a brick wall, and a stray cat. The orange light reflected in the feline's round eyes, and then it darted off, spooked by something.

Hitomi muttered to herself about how crazy she was acting. She bent double to massage a cramp in her calf. Then she flexed the muscles in her legs and back. She straightened with a flick of her drenched hair.

And saw the head.

 _Oh, God, what is it?!_ she gawked.

The head was as sallow as a corpse's and disembodied. It floated in the grayness beyond the streetlight. The eyes were like sinkholes, dead stars, sucking in everything nearby. Rotting flesh clung to the head's sharp features. It emitted a putrid smell, something between singed hair and rancid meat.

"Hitomi Kanzaki," a voice, deep as a grave and grating as sin, said. Its lips had not moved. A claw-like hand materialized below the head. It pointed an index finger at her. "You will die."

She stumbled backwards, heart thrumming, unable to process what was happening. Her back came up against the unyielding surface of the streetlight's pole. "W-Who are you?"

"I am Shadow. You know me."

"I-Is this another vision?" Hitomi was freezing. The short, blond hairs on her arms and neck stood up. "I d-don't know who…what you are!"

"The end has begun. Soon we will meet, Hitomi Kanzaki. When we do, you will die." The head was disappearing as the sun peeked up from the east.

She cried, "Wait!"

"I am Shadow. I am on Gaea." The head faded like a nightmare. Sunlight lanced through the space it once occupied.

It was gone.

Hitomi's head throbbed as if a sledgehammer had struck it. She slid down the streetlight's pole onto her knees, her shirt hiking up in the back. The orange lamp flickered out. The sun rose higher and shed pastel pink and coral across the sky. The sunlight heated the land below. Her clothes, still clammy from sweat and the cold the head had emanated, slowly warmed up.

What was that thing? It must have been a spirit. But of who or what? Did it have anything to do with the vision of Van yesterday? It spoke of Gaea, the place that she had worked so hard to forget.

Hitomi staggered to her feet and grabbed the streetlight's pole for support. Dizzy, she shut her green-blue eyes and said aloud to the sun, "I can't go back."

"""""""

"Hitomi!"

The insistent exclamation of her name jarred Hitomi back to the present. She jumped in the delicate, wire-back chair. In the process, she bumped the circular, equally flimsy, table. The white porcelain teacups clanked in their saucers, sending tea sloshing over their rims and onto the lace tablecloth. Some of the amber liquid streamed off the table and into her lap. Cursing inaudibly, she grabbed a cloth napkin and dabbed at her jeans. Luckily, the tea was not too hot, more tepid.

"Take mine," Yukari volunteered and handed the folded wedge of a napkin to Hitomi.

"Sorry, sorry."

Chagrined, Hitomi shook out the second napkin and used it to sop up the tea that the tablecloth had not. The waiter came by, a jovial man in a pressed black apron, starched shirt, and button-down vest. Even his mustache smiled as he inquired if the young ladies preferred clean napkins first or fresh tea. Five minutes later, the waiter cleared off the table, replaced the table covering with an unsoiled one, and produced a second round of steaming cups.

"Allow me to leave this, _mademoiselles_." The waiter gestured with a gloved hand at the arched neck of the teapot. "In case there is another accident."

Hitomi's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Yukari giggled as the waiter bowed to them and left to attend another party. After a swift glance around, Hitomi was satisfied that she had not made too big of a spectacle of herself. Their table was tucked away in a corner of the teashop behind a vined trellis. The only other person who witnessed her blunder was their most immediate neighbor, an old woman with horn-rimmed glasses. She at least politely pretended to read a newspaper and hid an amused grin behind its pages.

"This place really has great service," Yukari chirped. She looped her fingers through the handle of her cup and sipped. Hitomi caught a pungent whiff of cinnamon. "Amano and I came here a month ago."

"What's the name of this teashop?" Hitomi laced her hands around her own cup. The steam rose and moistened her fingers.

Yukari pouted, "Come on. Why are you so spacy? I told you earlier, remember?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot. I didn't sleep well last night." Guiltily, Hitomi ducked her chin and stared into her cup's tan depths.

"It's French. _Sous La Lune._ " Yukari drummed her fingers on the table. "I remember you chose to study English in high school. Therefore, I, the great _francophone_ , will translate. It means: beneath the moon."

Hitomi couldn't resist smiling at her friend. "It's lovely."

"Isn't it?" Yukari took another slurp from her cup. "The tea's great, but that's not why I brought you here."

 _Uh oh,_ Hitomi winced. She hid her nervous expression from Yukari by swallowing a large gulp of tea. It was wonderful, a blend of cinnamon spiced orange and jasmine, but the aftertaste was predictably bitter. _I know where this is going._

"I was surprised you called this afternoon and invited me out. I thought Amano and you would be enjoying a Saturday together," she hedged.

"Mmm, well, even married people need time apart." Yukari sighed melodramatically and arched a plucked eyebrow. "So, why don't you tell me about your date? How did it go with the _visual kei_ guy?"

Hitomi shrugged and met Yukari's mischievous, tawny eyes. "I'm afraid there isn't much to say."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing happened. No date. No juicy details."

"What?!"

She briefly filled Yukari in on last night's events but omitted the vision and the feather. Yukari groaned and buried her slim, oval face in her arms atop the table. Her auburn hair, which was longer than their girlhood days, splayed across the ivory lace of the tablecloth. For a moment, it reminded Hitomi of the color of blood. She blinked several times, trying to rid herself of the memory of a red rain dyeing the earth scarlet. With a quivering hand, she plucked at a strand of Yukari's hair. Yes, it was only hair, soft and shiny, nothing more.

Feeling the light tug on her mane, Yukari straightened up, her expression woebegone. "Hitomi, that's so pathetic. You called off a date, because you tripped!"

"I was hurt," she countered defensively. Hitomi pushed the past back into the remotest crevice of her mind. "Kagame was very understanding."

"You may as well have canceled because of a sneeze!"

Hitomi rolled her eyes and poured the last of the squat teapot's contents into their cups. "Stuff happened. That's all. Kagame is sweet, but…I don't know."

"You didn't give him a real chance."

"Hey, I thought you didn't like him. Since when did you turn into a fan?" she feebly joked.

Yukari pursed her lips. "It's not that I like or dislike him. I just want to make sure that you're with someone…nice."

"I don't think I can find anyone nicer than Kagame."

"So, you should've had dinner with him."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Something doesn't feel right."

"What's not right? Dating? Falling in love?" Yukari tucked locks of her hair behind her ears, the tips curling outward. "You can't keep self-sabotaging yourself this way."

"How am I self-sabotaging?" Hitomi bristled at the comment.

"Anyone can see what you're doing. You never let guys get near you. You always find faults with them or make excuses not to get to know them. Are you really okay with that? Do you want to be alone your whole life?"

"That's not fair, Yukari!" Hitomi slammed her teacup down onto the saucer. "Just because Amano and you have a good relationship doesn't mean that everyone else gets to have that!"

Yukari reached across the table and clasped Hitomi's injured hand between both of hers. "But that's the problem. There hasn't been anyone for you since Amano. Not for years. Why is that?"

"I'm done talking about this."

"See? There you go. Every time I bring this up, you cut me off." Yukari squeezed Hitomi's hand. "I've tried to respect your privacy. I told myself eventually you would open up to me, but you haven't. Whatever you're keeping inside, it's hurting you. I can see it."

"Oh, please!" Hitomi weakly laughed. "Stop joking around. Nothing's wrong, Yukari."

"Don't lie to me! I know when you are."

"I'm not. Look, I'm telling you-"

Yukari shook Hitomi's hand for emphasis. "No, _I'm_ telling _you_. This thing is affecting you. You're different. You have to talk about what's bothering you. If you don't, you'll only hurt yourself more."

"Nothing is wrong!" Hitomi yanked her hand back from Yukari.

Yukari softened her voice. "Is it Amano? Are you in still love with him?"

"Don't be silly! That was a simple crush. It meant nothing."

"Okay. I understand. I just have to ask." Yukari gripped her new napkin and twisted it. "Then it must be something from high school. You never said why you went to counseling or what triggered your PTSD. Something happened to you around that time, right?"

Hitomi's face grew hotter and hotter. Her throat tightened. She tried to swallow but couldn't. It was painful, like choking. "Stop it."

"Were you in love with someone back then?" Yukari questioned relentlessly. Her napkin was totally scrunched now. "Did he hurt you? Hitomi, I just want to-"

"Shut up!" Hitomi shouted. She covered her ears with her hands. The emerald teardrop earrings bit into her palms. "No more!"

Yukari jerked as if Hitomi had slapped her. Her bottom lip trembled. The friendly chatter of the teashop subsided. Several people watched their table, curious, alarmed. Hitomi lowered her hands from her face into her lap. Flushing, she prayed for composure. Yukari inhaled audibly, gently set aside her teacup, and stood up. From out of her purse, she retrieved a wrinkled money note. She smoothed it and left it beside her cup.

Hitomi looked up at Yukari's willowy figure. "I didn't mean-"

"I don't know who you are anymore, Hitomi. I haven't for a long time." Yukari's voice was resigned and exhausted. "Do you?"

"I'm sorry! It's my fault. I'm…tired today."

"Oh, yeah? I'm tired, too. I'm tired of trying to figure you out."

"I'm a little moody. Okay? Let's-"

"I'm going home. Don't call me until you're tired of keeping secrets." Without a backward glance, Yukari walked toward the teashop's entrance. The bell over the door jingled as she opened it and padded out into the world.

Hitomi sat at their table for another ten, fifteen minutes. She glowered at the distance between Yukari's teacup and her own. Finally, she signaled the waiter. His demeanor was noticeably chilled. He sniffed at Hitomi through his mustache as she paid for her half of the bill. When the waiter brought her the change, he frowned and bid her a straight-faced " _aurevoir_." There was no playful, gallant bow this time.

 _I guess I'm a jerk to you_ , Hitomi thought at the French-accented waiter. She tipped him extra from the change. _That's okay. I think the same thing._

"""""""

Merle lingered in the shadow of the doorway, hovering just outside the castle rooftop, as Lord Van observed his kingdom. The lights of buildings and torches winked like fireflies below the marble castle. Lost in contemplation, the young king was a warm-blooded statue, ignorant of the autumn's chill in his court finery. The sky over him sparkled with an infinitude of stars, all glittering like the gold embroidery of his clothes. A pearlescent moon floated ghost-like amid the black waters of the sky. Behind it was the shining blue and green orb of the Mystic Moon.

Tail twitching, Merle scrutinized Lord Van. It was one of her favorite past times, and she was not alone in this. He was an undeniably handsome man and one of Gaea's most eligible bachelors. The woman that married him also married a prosperous kingdom. So, it was not uncommon for Lord Van to be followed by female, and some male, eyes.

Over the span of five years, Lord Van had grown several centimeters, although he wouldn't be a giant like his father, King Gaou. No, he favored his mother, Queen Varie. Her soft features were evident in the shape of Lord Van's face, his compact built, and his ruby-brown eyes. He had, however, inherited the jut of his father's chin, his determined mouth, and his unruly hair.

In truth, all Merle knew in her eighteen years was Lord Van. Since being taken in as a kitten by Balgus Ganesha, a wandering samurai who had served Fanelia's rulers, her life had revolved around this kind boy. Now that boy was a man, a man that Merle pined after desperately, silently. If only he would turn to her, not as a brother, not as a king, but as a lover.

However, Merle knew just as she could not change her heart, Lord Van could not change his. It was why he sought solace in the nights. And so, as was their custom, she watched Van Fanel as he watched the Mystic Moon.

He whispered a word so quietly no normal person could have heard it. But being a cat, Merle picked it up with the flick of a tufted ear. "Hitomi."

"""""""

Hitomi slumped onto her bed, the mattress squeaking in disapproval. She propped her elbows on her thighs and rested her chin on her knuckles. She hovered like that, glaring at the stoic, second-hand nightstand. Temptation won over self-control and she slid open the drawer. Yes, there was the feather, fragile as a dream, but real. She laid it in her left hand, the scraped palm ugly next to the quill's beauty. With her other hand, Hitomi picked up her cell phone, scrolled through her contacts, and hovered over the one labeled "Home."

She squeezed her eyes shut, hating herself for her weakness, and pushed the "call" button. The phone buzzed against her ear, once, twice, a third time. Hitomi waited, hoping no one was home, hoping someone was.

"Hello, Kanzaki residence." The voice of Hitomi's mother, balmy as a summer sea, washed over her.

"Hey, Mom," she whispered.

"I'm sorry. I can't hear you. Who is this?"

Hitomi cleared her throat and wiped away a tear that slithered down the slope of her cheek. "Mom, it's me. Hi."

"Oh, Hitomi! I'm sorry. You were talking so low." Her mother sounded pleased. "How's my college girl?"

"Um, I'm okay."

"Studies are going well?"

"Yeah." Hitomi's earring bumped against the phone.

Catching a tautness in Hitomi's tone, her mother asked, "Is something wrong? You don't sound very good."

 _No, I'm not_ , she honestly admitted and curled her left hand into a fist. The image of a winged angel flashed through her mind. It was followed by the vision of an animated corpse. Both were such extremes, bringing with them a mixture of yearning and terror.

Hitomi relaxed her hand. The feather withstood the punishment of her grasp. It lay there so innocently, waiting.

Gaea was calling to her once again.

"Mom, I want to come home." Hitomi began to cry in earnest. Big globules of salt-water glided down her face and collected on her chin. She angrily wiped them away with the sleeve of her shirt. "I'm confused."

"What's wrong? Oh, honey, you know you can home whenever you want to."

Hitomi snuffled, "Now?"

"Well, I was about to start dinner…"

"Mom, please. Can you come get me? I don't want to be here tonight."

"Okay, Hitomi. That's fine. It may take a little bit with the traffic. Why don't you pack some clothes and your homework for the weekend? We can drive you back before classes start on Monday."

"I'd like that," she sniffed.

"I'm on the way. I'll see you soon."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**


	4. Chapter 4

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Four"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: In the anime, Hitomi's mother was never named. I took some liberty and chose Nao for her, which means "honesty." _Hashi_ are what the Japanese call the wooden sticks they eat with.

I also want to extend a big "thank you" to the most recent reviewers, pandorababe and theladyhitomi, and to Penelopi, for taking up the task of being this fiction's beta. ^_^

Edited 6/5/2017: I've gone through this chapter at least twenty times now, and the words are blurring together. Dear readers, if you notice an error, please do let me know.

"""""""

Nao Kanzaki cracked open the pair of cardboard boxes and checked their contents. As far as she could tell, everything seemed to be in order on the pizzas, one cheese and honey and the other teriyaki chicken. They smelled bizarre to her, but they were at least hot and freshly made. Nibbling her lower lip, she stacked the boxes on the kitchen counter and mulled over the best explanation for her husband, Daisuke, and son, Mamoru. They would definitely be surprised at the lack of home cooking tonight.

 _Mamoru complains I fix the same things over and over. Because of that, I'll tell them I wanted to try something new_ , she decided. The Kanzaki family's first time eating pizza would certainly be that.

Hitomi peeked over her mother's shoulder at the pizzas. "I'm surprised you wanted to buy these, Mom."

"It was too late to cook with all that traffic. I thought pizza might do for one night."

"I'm sorry." Hitomi's blond-tipped lashes concealed her eyes. "I didn't mean to cause problems."

Nao smiled at her daughter, the wrinkles bunching around her lips. "Not at all. It's nice to have you home."

Hitomi grinned at her, pleased and a little embarrassed. "Thanks, Mom."

Yet again, Nao found herself marveling at her daughter's likeness to her own mother, Yuri. They shared the same shape of the face, arch of the eyebrows, and brown-gold hair. But to Nao, Hitomi resembled Yuri the most in the eyes. They were otherworldly and jewel-like, changing from a vibrant emerald to almost blue. Such eyes were bewitching; they shifted color according to the slant of light or a certain mood. Nao always regretted she did not inherit Yuri's eyes; hers were moss green, more mundane.

A hum from the garage warned the two women that Hitomi's father was home. For a moment, they froze over the pizzas, one in guilt, one in uncertainty. They listened to the thrum of the door opening and the purring engine of the family's second automobile. Gulping, Nao sprang into action. She fetched cups from the cupboard and sprinkled tea leaves into a well-used pot. Following her example, Hitomi located the dinnerware and began setting the table. While she did that, Nao boiled water in a kettle and hunted through the refrigerator for Mamoru's milk.

"It's almost eight. That seems a little late for Dad on a Saturday," Hitomi commented as she laid plates on the mahogany table. Paper napkins and smooth bamboo _hashi_ followed.

"Your father's been working on the weekends. The office is still short staffed." Hidden behind some leftovers was the last small carton of Mamoru's milk. Nao drew it out victoriously and made a mental note to buy more tomorrow. "Mamoru had work today too, but he should be home any time now."

"Is he still at the ramen restaurant?"

Nao sighed, "Yes, but he's not busing tables anymore. They have him washing dishes. He says he prefers that."

"And baseball?"

"Never misses a practice. He's still the ace pitcher of Kamakita High."

Before Hitomi could reply, Daisuke Kanzaki dragged himself through the door connecting the garage to the kitchen. He wore a rumpled, slate gray suit and carried a scuffed leather briefcase. The wire frames of his glasses caught the overhead kitchen light, the lenses refracting beams. Nao worriedly noted her husband's ashen face and the bags beneath his eyes. He seemed to have aged years in a month's time. The creases around his lips were deeper, and the furrows in his forehead were almost slashed across there.

"Hey, Dad!" Hitomi greeted her father and rushed to hug him.

Daisuke blinked several times before coming a little out of his fatigue. He raised his arms up and awkwardly patted his daughter's back around his briefcase. "Ah, Hitomi. What a nice surprise."

Nao placed Mamoru's carton of milk by his seat on the table. "Welcome home! Hitomi is staying the weekend. Isn't that great?"

"Yes. Great," Daisuke echoed. He removed his shoes and stumbled to a chair. "What's for dinner?"

"Oh, Hitomi and I bought pizza." Nao took the briefcase from her husband, dusted off its surface, and set it by the door leading to Daisuke's study.

"Pizza?"

"Yes, dear," Nao confirmed as the kettle whistled. She removed it from the burner and poured its contents into the pot. With a mitted hand, she set the hot pot of tea on the table.

"Er…are you sure?"

Hitomi plopped the pizza boxes into the middle of the table, pulled out a chair next to her father, and sat down. "American food is really popular, Dad."

"Aren't they expensive?" Daisuke loosened his tie and shed his suit jacket. Incredulous, he studied the alien circles on the table, even poked a slice with the tips of his _hashi_.

The banging of the front door interrupted the conversation. Mamoru Kanzaki, whistling, strode through the living room and into the kitchen. He wore his work clothes, faded jeans, a stained white t-shirt, and skid resistant shoes. An apron hung over his shoulder, the strings dangling loosely. Over the summer, Mamoru had a late growth spurt; now, he towered over both his parents. He stopped mid-stride in the living room doorway, one hand in his jean's pocket, one holding the strap of a backpack.

His eyes, so much like Nao's own, narrowed dangerously at the sight of Hitomi. "What're _you_ doing here?"

"That's no way to talk to your sister." Daisuke frowned and kneaded his graying temples. "Don't you remember how to greet people properly?"

"Oh, sure. Hi."

Daisuke shook his head, scooped up a slice of pizza, and deposited it onto his plate. He used his _hashi_ to collect the stubborn strings of cheese that stretched between the box and the plate. Under his breath, he grumbled about the modern generation's lack of respect. Nao patted her husband's hand comfortingly.

She smiled at her son, hoping to ease the tension between her children. "Welcome back. How was work?"

"Fine, Mom." Unfazed, Mamoru approached the kitchen table. "Again, why're you here?"

"I live here." Hitomi arched an eyebrow at her brother.

"No. I live here. You go to college. Shouldn't you be there doing something, like, dissecting frogs?" Mamoru fired back.

"Good to see you too, little brother." Hitomi bowed her head and dumped a wedge of cheese and honey pizza onto her plate. "Actually, the only thing I plan to dissect is this."

Daisuke chimed in, "It doesn't smell half bad."

Mamoru snorted his misgivings.

"Shall we eat? Please sit down, Mamoru," Nao encouraged and drew the chair next to hers out invitingly.

He glowered at the pizza disdainfully. "I'm not touching that crap."

"That's enough! You will show respect for your mother and sister!" Daisuke's voice whipped across the room.

The corded muscles in Mamoru's arms flexed. "Sorry, Mom. I'm not hungry. I have homework."

Nao's lip trembled. "B-But-"

"Night, everyone." Mamoru whisked the milk off the table and strode back into the living room. Nao heard the agitated stomp of his footsteps up the stairs.

Daisuke sawed at his pizza with the _hashi_. When that failed to break it apart, he dropped them to the side and grasped the slice between his hands. He tore a hearty chunk out of the teriyaki chicken and sucked the strands of greasy cheese up like noodles. Hitomi copied his fashion but chewed smaller, more delicate bites. Miserable, Nao counted the bits of chicken on top of her pizza until her vision no longer swam with tears.

She inhaled and started, "Daisuke, did you have to-"

"He can't treat Hitomi and you that way." Her husband shoveled the last bit of pizza into his mouth. He chomped firmly and swallowed. "He's a senior in high school, not some mannerless brat."

"He's having a difficult time lately. You know Akiko broke up with him."

"If he acted that way around her, I'm not surprised she cut him loose." Daisuke patted his lips with a napkin.

"Daisuke!"

"He's had this attitude for a while. It's not something new."

Nao frowned. "You know he doesn't handle surprises well."

"Dad, it's my fault," Hitomi jumped in. "Ever since…since…"

"The past is the past. It's time he moves on." Daisuke deposited his napkin on the table. "Thank you for the food. I'm not feeling well. I'm going to bed early."

"We have to sort this out," Nao insisted. "You need to talk to-"

"Good night." Daisuke collected his jacket and trudged out of the kitchen. His footsteps up the stairs were slower and heavier than his son's.

Despondent, Nao completely disregarded table etiquette, lifted up her slice, and bit hard into the cooling crust. She tore off a large chunk and gnawed on it unforgivingly.

"I'm sorry," Hitomi whispered across the table.

Nao forced a watery smile. "It's not your fault. Everything will be better tomorrow. Think you and I can finish both of these?"

"Let's give it a try, Mom," Hitomi concurred and accepted a second helping.

"""""""

Hitomi lay across the bed in her old room, the clean sheets smelling of lavender, taking in her surroundings. Nothing had changed; her mother dusted and vacuumed in her absence but kept all her belongings in the same locations. Her desk retained its position beneath the window with its lilac-colored curtains. Next to the desk rested the squat vanity where Hitomi must bend double to see her reflection in the mirror. The wooden clock, carved with owls and songbirds, ticked stoically on the wall, unceasingly measuring the passing time. There was the bookcase with its assortment of novels, comics, music, and movies. Various framed photographs of Hitomi's family and friends hung scattered across the walls of the room.

It was _her_ room. She knew all the furniture, the carpet, the paint on the walls. This was where she grew up, her place of refuge. She should feel safe in this room and welcomed in her family's house. Honestly, all Hitomi felt was depressed and anxious.

She rolled onto her side, her arm dangling off the bed. Her stomach bubbled irritably from the evening's unusual meal. To distract herself from the discomfort, Hitomi studied the photographs from high school. In one, Yukari and she posed comically in their school uniforms, carefree and grinning. Another picture showed Yukari, Amano, and her huddled together at a track meet, red-cheeked and triumphant. Back then, Yukari and Hitomi never argued over anything but who paid for what dessert. It all seemed so long ago, so far away.

Hitomi's cell phone jingled. She flopped once more onto her back and held the machine over her head to view the text message. She hoped it was from Yukari. Maybe she was relenting at last and responding to Hitomi's calls and repentant texts. In the end, it was not Yukari. Instead, the name "Kagame" flashed across the screen. She swallowed and bit down on the inside of her bottom lip. She hated fighting with Yukari, but how could she apologize if Yukari kept ignoring her?

 _I should at least see what Kagame wants_ , Hitomi thought. She pushed the button to expand the message and read through it twice.

"Hi, Hitomi! How're you feeling? I hope your weekend is going better. There's an American film festival Tuesday night on campus. Would you like to go with me if you're free?"

She winced and dropped the phone onto the mattress. Because of the drama with Yukari, Hitomi had forgotten about Kagame. She vaguely recalled leaving him yesterday with a halfhearted promise of another outing. Groaning, Hitomi covered her eyes with her hands and shook her head. _He's a good guy. I know that. And cute. Even so, I can't see him as more than a friend. I want to, but I can't,_ she admitted remorsefully.

Yukari was right. Hitomi wouldn't allow herself to be romantically involved with anyone. Outwardly, she refuted her loneliness and pretended to be too busy for love. In reality, she watched the couples around her enviously and spent desolate nights entertaining hopeless fantasies and empty arms. When the solitude was too much to bear, she went on dates and flirted with guys. During those times, she told herself the same things Yukari had today. Still, she could only go so far-a peck, hand holding, dialogue-and then she withdrew from whomever showed her affection. No matter Yukari's logic or Hitomi's determination to leave the past behind, she wasn't able to do so. Yesterday's vision, where a winged man watched her somberly from a distance, proved that.

The image of the angel brought with it a terrible hope, one which Hitomi had run from for years. This hope sprang into being inside her guarded heart, despite her squashing and raging against it. She dreaded this spreading hope, for if it bloomed, she must forsake the safe persona and predictable reality she had constructed. And like a moth, she would follow the light of this hope to wherever it may lead and to whomever she would become. It was much easier, and safer, to sabotage this hope and wait for its death.

She had convinced herself she could continue to deny Gaea's call, but the second vision from this morning would not allow it. The malevolent entity braving the dawn destroyed what remained of Hitomi's willing blindness. The cadaver, with its soulless eyes and talon-like fingers, stripped her of any delusions of normalcy and disremembering Gaea. It impressed upon her the gravity of the call and its ability to reach her. The vision frightened her so terribly that she could not piece her old self, the carefully composed one, back together. That was why the row with Yukari happened and why Hitomi fled to the comfort of her parents.

She was scared.

 _I've been such a coward, running from all of the hard things. I wanted to protect myself_ , Hitomi reflected, scowling at the whorl-shaped patterns in the ceiling. _To be normal, only normal. No visions, no wars, no darkness. I didn't want to lose more than I already had. What good did that do me? Near friendless, lover-less, at odds with my family, and disliking myself._

She scooped up a round, pink pillow and pressed it against her chest. There was a tightness there. It enclosed her heart, which she felt beating against the plushness of the pillow, in a constricting loop. She sat up on the bed and laid her cheek on the cushion. Her eyes, green as the earrings dangling in her earlobes, brimmed with unshed tears. _I can't runaway anymore_ , she realized as she swiped the sleeve of her pajama shirt across her face.

Hitomi chucked the pillow over a shoulder and stood. She debated on retrieving a textbook from the backpack she brought with her and doing some homework. An early night's sleep sounded more appealing, though. She padded over instead to the messenger bag strewn across the desk. Inserting her left hand, Hitomi rummaged through an inner pocket of the bag. Her scraped palm brushed something fuzzy and warm; it made her entire arm buzz. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled out the innocently gleaming feather. Even in the rush to pack and come home, she had made sure to bring it with her.

She smoothed the feather and whispered aloud to it, "If there's something I'm supposed to know, please show me tonight. I'm ready to listen."

With a flick of the switch, Hitomi doused the desk lamp and waded through the dimness back to the bed. She fluffed the pillows, slithered under the blanket, and watched the feather glow softly in the night. Her eyelids drooped just minutes after relaxing into her favorite sleeping position. The exhaustion she had held at bay all day finally won over her willpower. She drifted off into an all-encompassing sleep, her last thought of the feather.

"""""""

"Hitomi."

In an effort to control herself, Merle dug her fingers into the stone of the doorway where she lingered. The tips of her meticulously filed claws scratched marks into the coarse surface. The name Lord Van had whispered into the night filled her with pain and jealousy, even after all these years. She locked her jaw, fangs grinding into each other, and tasted a foulness in her mouth. The pupils of her twilight blue eyes, already wide against the dark, further enlarged with emotion.

 _You will not cry, stupid kitten_ , Merle ordered her distraught self. Her tan and black-striped tail whipped in agitation. _Lord Van doesn't belong to you. You know that._

She consoled herself with the knowledge that the bearer of the name couldn't have Lord Van either. No, his future queen was one of the beautiful noble ladies awaiting him in the dining hall.

Merle's sable ears twitched and rotated back. From behind her, she heard the trod of booted feet up the spiraling stairs. The pace was labored but steady, likely belonging to an aged courtier. She had a good idea of who that courtier was: His Stuffiness, Sir Trigornia, on his way to drag Lord Van to the evening's meal. Initially, Trigornia had sent Merle to bring the king to dinner, and she had eagerly complied. However, upon sighting Lord Van, she fell back into the habit of spy-watching. It was rare these days to have moments alone with the king. She couldn't stop herself from admiring his raven's wing hair, his well-defined chest, and the snug fit of his breeches.

How much time had passed since she had come to fetch Lord Van? It certainly couldn't have been long enough to warrant a visit from Trigornia himself. _I better interrupt Lord Van's pining now before the old coot does_ , she mentally sighed.

Merle collected the pleated skirt of her yellow dress and quietly shook out the bunched cloth. She licked her paws and buffed them against her cheeks. She rearranged the leather chord of her necklace across the modest bodice of her dress. From the chord hung the large, red oval of her nail file, a gift from Queen Varie. Inhaling, she abandoned stealth and marched out onto the moonlit roof. The thin soles of her fine slippers slapped against the stones, and her shadow stretched after her like a charcoal-colored ribbon.

Lord Van turned slightly at the sound of her approach. "Merle?"

"Yes." She halted nearby. "Dinner is ready, Lord Van. Your guests are waiting."

"Ah, of course. I'm sorry." He raised a hand to his forehead and shut his eyes. "I…forgot."

With her sharp eyesight, Merle noticed the droplets of perspiration on his brow and a damp spot on the neck of his crimson shirt. The night was cool. Why was he sweating?

"Well, you've had more important matters on your mind," she pointed out and then beamed. "I can forgive you for not putting the roast duck first. I'm not sure I can say the same for the others though."

Lord Van offered Merle his characteristically lopsided smile. "Especially not Torg."

Torg Fireeater, one of the three Fanelian generals, possessed a very hearty appetite. When hungry, he was not known for his patience, even in the company of royalty.

"He probably downed the duck whole already," Merle giggled and linked her hands behind her back.

"Roast ducks. Elaborate feasts. Silk shirts. I hate all this pageantry, this…pretention," Lord Van grumbled and tugged at the laces of his shirt in aggravation.

"You always did," Merle agreed. She drew nearer to the young king, their arms almost touching. "I remember Sir Balgus chasing after you when we were kids, because you liked to run away during etiquette lessons."

He chuckled lightly. "I can't be blamed. There were so many more interesting things to do. Riding, games, and-"

"And flying?" she murmured.

Even in the dark, Merle saw the pink flush spread across Lord Van's golden skin. He lifted his head back to the sky, as if drinking in starlight. A companionable silence settled between them. Content just to be near him, Merle feigned interest in the heavens as well but stole another covetous glance at him. From this angle, his profile was stern and silver spangled, handsome and somehow fragile. Narrowing her eyes, she made out lines around his mouth and smudges beneath his eyes. He seemed strangely weary tonight.

She reached out and plucked at the sleeve of his shirt. "Lord Van, are you well?"

"Mmm, yes. Just tired, perhaps." He crooked his arm and offered it to Merle. "Shall we go, my lady?"

Her heart fluttered and cheeks grew hot. She looped her elbow through his. "We can't let Torg have all the duck."

Loud panting told Merle that Sir Trigornia had arrived at last. The older man leaned against the doorway, his silk shirt and jacket with the puffed sleeves disheveled. The lengthy climb up the stairs seemed to have drained him of some of his usual vehemence; even his gray mustache drooped. Once he caught his breath, he frowned at the joined arms of the king and his adopted sister. Sensing his train of thought, Merle reluctantly released Lord Van. It was improper for them to be so physically familiar with one another, even if they were the best of friends.

"Your Highness," Sir Trigornia greeted the young king. He straightened to his normal ramrod posture and bowed equally stiffly. "The feast has begun. Shall I accompany the Lady Merle and you to the dining hall?"

Lord Van winked at Merle. "Yes, yes. We're coming, Trigornia."

They were almost to the doorway when Merle discerned a shortening in Lord Van's strides. From behind him, she observed a peculiar trembling in his limbs; he shook like a leaf on a wind tossed branch. He extended a hand towards Trigornia and croaked a half-formed word. His knees locked and then buckled beneath him. Merle cried out and ran to catch him as he fell but was beaten by Trigornia. Despite his age, the old man retained good reflexes. He surged forward, grasped the unconscious king around the torso, and gently lowered him to the ground.

"Lord Van!" Merle knelt beside the man she loved. He was no more than a limp doll in Trigornia's arms. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, causing her tail to puff up. "Lord Van!"

Trigornia grunted, "Be quiet, girl! By all the gods, _look_. He lives."

"Thank goodness," she whispered, her eyes seeking the telltale rise and fall of Lord Van's chest.

"Now hurry! Bring the physician and generals!" Trigornia laid Lord Van's body in a more comfortable position and draped his coat across the king.

Merle nodded, knotted the skirts of her dress at her hips, and bolted down the stairs on all fours. She kicked her slippers off in haste and fully extended both sets of claws to better grip the stone. As she tore down the winding stairs, the echo of a scream not her own rang through her sensitive ears. It was impossible, she knew, but it reminded her of the voice of the girl from the Mystic Moon.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Five"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: **I would like thank everyone for the reviews and follows!** **^_^** I'm sorry if I haven't been able to contact you all personally. (Real world responsibilities call!) At least here, I want to express my gratitude. Your support means so much to me and motivates me to continue writing, even into the wee hours of the morning, LOL. A special thanks goes to Chibimimi17 and Mystical-Grace as the newest reviewers. Also, I would like to recognize Banryuu for all her feedback on this chapter.

Oh, and the name of Nao is pronounced "Nah-Oh."

Edited 6/6/2017: I spruced up this chapter a bit more. If anything got through the cracks, please let me know.

"""""""

"Van!" Hitomi's scream split the inky quiet of the bedroom.

She jackknifed upright and clutched the blankets to her chest. Her throat felt raw and dry, and her hands were cold, as if the circulation in them were cut off. There was a flurry of movement on the other side of the wall in Mamoru's room. His mattress squeaked as he got up. It was followed by his muffled curse and the groan of a door's hinges. Illumination flooded the hallway outside of Hitomi's room. It shown brightly through the outline of her door.

Mamoru rapped twice. When there was no response, he called her name. "Hitomi? You okay?"

She barely registered his voice through the frantic tattoo of her heart and the aftermath of the dream. In her mind, the image of Van collapsing on top of a castle roof replayed. She still saw the grown Merle's puffed up tail, the starched jacket of a graying noble, and Van's eyes rolling into the back of his head. Looming over the king's rumpled form, like a grim reaper, had been the entity known as Shadow. It had lurked in the night's gloom, evading both moon and star light. As Van had lost consciousness, it had laughed, a guttural noise deep in its throat.

Hitomi's brother opened her door and a cone of light invaded the room. She shielded her eyes against it, the present coming into focus. Mamoru hovered in the doorway, shifting uncomfortably from one socked foot to the other. He wore a baggy t-shirt and drawstring sweatpants. His dark brown hair stuck up in clumps. His hand grasped the door knob, twisting it back and forth uncertainly.

"Hey, answer me already," he ordered exasperatedly.

"W-What?"

"A _re you okay_? I asked three times now. I heard you shouting."

"No, I-I'm fine." Hitomi's pulse was slowing, although it continued to hammer at her temples. "I'm sorry. It was…just a dream."

He frowned. "Are you still having them?"

"Having what?" Hitomi dabbed at the sweat on her forehead with the sleeve of her pajama top. The incessant throbbing in her temples was fast becoming a headache.

Mamoru sighed and rested a hand on his hip. "The nightmares. When you lived at home, you had them a lot. Most nights you just mumbled crap, but sometimes you screamed like you did tonight." 

"Sorry."

"Those must be the worst ones."

She looked sharply up at him, searching his expression for a hint of his earlier hostility or sarcasm. Although half-shadowed, his face was open and sincere, as it had been when he was younger. It was rare for Mamoru to show her kindness, let alone concern. Maybe his guard was down from having been woken up unexpectedly. Regardless of the reason, Hitomi found herself answering him honestly.

"They are." She managed to swallow and loosened her death grip on the blankets. "But I haven't had such dreams in a while."

"Is it happening again? The thing you went through in the past?"

Hitomi massaged her forehead and smiled weakly. "Don't worry. I'm not losing my mind."

"That's not what I meant." He glanced, embarrassed, to the side.

Before Gaea, Hitomi's relationship with her brother had been more normal. They had quarreled from time to time, as siblings do, but those fights couldn't compare to the animosity between them after her collapse. Looking back, she saw how her breakdown had upset the balance of their family. Her parents had doted on their "delicate" daughter and expected their son to be okay with the scraps of their attention.

"I know what you think of me. You expressed that very well tonight."

"Come on, Sis. I'd just gotten off of work. I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Oh, your crazy sister surprised you," she murmured, her tone sour.

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not? It's what everyone used to say." While Hitomi's classmates had ostracized her and gossiped, the kids from Mamoru's school had harassed him about his "psycho" sister. She remembered how he had come home bruised and bloody from numerous fights.

He shrugged. "They were dumb fucks. They didn't understand."

"And did you?" Her eyes blazed like green stars. She already knew the answer. But even after all these years, she needed to hear Mamoru say it.

"To be honest, no. I didn't get how you went from being fine one day to popping pills with a shrink the next. I was a kid and no one told me anything. How could I understand? Mom and Dad were busy with you, and you were on some kind of self-imposed lockdown. All I knew was the shit people spouted. I had no idea what happened to you. I still don't."

Her response was husky, accusing. "You changed, too. You grew cruel towards me."

Mamoru scratched the back of his head guiltily. "Look, I'm sorry. For everything. Then and now. Okay? That time was hard on all of us."

"You're right," she relented, the tension melting out of her frame. "And I'm sorry for that."

"So, I'm sorry, you're sorry. Can we be cool now?"

"Okay."

They both were quiet, listening to the house settle and their father's loud snores down the hall. At last, Mamoru shuffled backwards through the doorway and tugged on the door knob. "I'm going back to bed," he announced.

"Thanks for checking on me."

"Sure. Night."

The door closed after him with a concluding click, and Hitomi's bedroom returned to its unlit state. Feeling more peaceful, she stretched out on the mattress once more. She readjusted the pillow to better cradle her pounding head and mused over the dream of Van and the conversation with her brother. Some part of her realized that when tomorrow came, everything would change, including herself.

"""""""

It was late Sunday morning when Hitomi woke up. She remained in bed for a time, comfortably nested amongst the covers and eavesdropping on the sounds of her family. She caught the echo of her father's farewell, the garage door whirring, and a car's engine purring off into the distance. Shortly after that, Mamoru emerged from his bedroom and thumped down the stairs. As he left, he shut the front door with enough force that it vibrated the walls. Ten minutes later, there was a jingle of keys and the pad of feet up the stairs.

"Hitomi? Are you awake?" her mother called. She tapped a few times on the door for added emphasis.

"Yeah, Mom," Hitomi replied and sat up in bed. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. She felt refreshed and headache free.

Her mother cracked open the door and poked her head in. "I have to go to the market. Would you like to come?"

"I think I will stay and study more, if you don't mind. I don't want to fall behind in my classes."

"That's fine. I should be back in an hour or two."

Hitomi waved to her. "Okay, Mom. See you then."

The door closed noiselessly after the older woman. Hitomi waited until she heard the family's second car leave before bounding out of bed. Now that she was alone, she had something important to do. She rooted through the backpack for a change of clothes. She settled upon a rarely used pair of jeans, a turquoise t-shirt, and a long, black cardigan. After brushing her hair, she made a pit stop in the bathroom to splash water on her face, clean her teeth, and switch out the bandage on her knee. For a moment, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the line of her mouth resolute.

"You can do this," Hitomi encouraged her reflection. She scratched her left palm absentmindedly; it was scabbing and itchy.

Inhaling, she descended the stairs and strode into the kitchen. Hitomi browsed through the cabinets and refrigerator before settling upon a bunch of bananas for breakfast. She picked one, peeled away its rubbery skin, and ate it in ravenous bites. While she chewed, she mulled over the task at hand and dropped the yellow peel into the trash. At the door which separated the kitchen from the garage, she doubled over to tie the laces of her scuffed sneakers. She pulled the fabric of the cardigan tighter around her body, belted it in place, and let herself into the garage.

It took a few minutes for Hitomi to locate where her father had moved his tools. Once she did, she found a battered, yet capable looking shovel. She carried it back through the house and out into the front yard. It was a crisp autumn day with an unbelievably blue sky and wind cool enough to bring goosebumps. The boughs of the maple rocked mildly in the breeze. A large portion of its scarlet leaves were scattered at its gnarled feet. What remained attached to the maple's branches crowned it like red-orange flames.

Hitomi rested a hand on the rough bark of the tree in greeting. Her palm buzzed. She felt the eddying of the maple's sap up through its roots, into its trunk, and out into the network of its branches. Stepping gingerly between its roots, she steered herself to a particularly bulbous one. There, she inserted the blade of the shovel into the soil and dug until it clanged against something metallic. She got on her hands and knees and lugged a rusting container out of the moist earth. With a quivering hand, she brushed excess dirt off of the old lock box.

She wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe the contents of the box had deteriorated from time or water-damage. Steeling herself for the worst, Hitomi flipped the latches and lifted the lid. She saw a swath of blue cloth bound neatly around a small package. She set the box on the ground and wiped her dirty hands on her pant legs. They trembled as she uncoiled the length of fabric and beheld a set of cards with golden pentacles. It was her tarot deck, unspoiled and purring with energy.

From far off, Grandma Yuri's words echoed through her mind. "Believe in yourself, Hitomi. Believe and the stars will help you."

"""""""

Hitomi filled in the hole at the base of the tree and hoped that no one would notice it. She abandoned the lock box in the garage alongside the shovel. Back in her room, she locked the bedroom door, cleared off the desk, and lay the bundle across its surface. She stood uncertainly over it, her emotions conflicting between yearning and apprehension. _No more hesitating_ , she prompted herself. 

Retrieving Van's feather from under a pillow, Hitomi set it on the desk above the cards. She yanked the chair over and perched on it. Once more, she unwound the fabric and chucked it onto the floor over her shoulder. She held the cards for the first time in five years. An odd itching went up her arms and sent her heart to thumping. The cards looked the same as when she had last seen them, baroque and glossy. She busied her hands with them, refamiliarizing herself with their texture.

Breathing deeply, she concentrated on clearing her mind and being calm. As she ordered and reordered the cards, she contemplated the next stage of her plan. Her psychic link with Van was blocked or severed. However, she did have the feather, which acted as a physical conduit between Earth and Gaea. She was also willing to bet that the tarot cards were still tuned to the Atlantis pendant, which Van had. If she drew on both the cards and the feather, it was likely she could make contact with the pendant and Van.

A jolt of something like electricity sent a shock through Hitomi. She ceased shuffling, decisively cut the deck, and spread the cards like the arc of a rainbow across the desk. She closed her eyes and mentally reached out to them. To her third eye, the cards' peridot green energy crackled and leapt to meet her own. When the energies connected, they joined and formed a powerful circuit.

She guided a tendril of energy out from the circuit to probe at the feather. It was strange, but she swore something passed silently between the cards and the feather. The feather started to glow from white to gold and back again. As it pulsed, the circuit echoed this, thrumming along with the rhythm.

Hitomi's eyes flew open. _There_. She felt it, the pendant. Sun-like energy roiled off of it. Beyond it, another link in a badly stretched chain, was someone's consciousness. This person's mind was hazy and pained.

Van _._

Her heart cried out to his. She reached for his spirit across dimensions but collided with an unyielding, opaque barrier. As she did, the tentative bond with the pendant faltered. Alarmed, Hitomi latched onto the frail link, thin as the filament of a spider's web. She anchored it with all her will. Her corporeal body bore the strain, forehead perspiring, muscles tensing. Who knew how much longer the cards and feather could maintain the connection? Now was the time to get answers.

Hitomi chose a simple spread and drew five cards from the half loop. She arranged the rectangles in a row between the main deck and the feather. Nervously, she flipped over the first card, which symbolized the past. It was The Death card reversed: a great loss, a decaying situation, a necessary end. Indeed, that had been Gaea's past, her past. The second card was the present, The Fool upright. It represented rushing into a situation blindly, emotions ruling rationality, and a new journey ahead with hidden dangers. Her fingers toyed with The Fool, the tips tingling. Yes, this was Hitomi herself, perhaps the situation on Gaea as well.

The next three cards told varying things about the future. They were the ones that most concerned Hitomi. She turned over the third card and revealed the Ace of Serpents upside down. She scowled in displeasure. This was what she considered to be Van's card. In the positive, it meant valor, accomplishment, and the power of creation. But in the reverse, it spoke of weakening defenses, corruption, and stagnation.

Pursing her lips, she touched her index finger to the card's surface, and a sunburst of colors flamed across the screen of her mind. They amassed into an image. The background was blurry, some cavernous room with a tapestry of a white dragon. In the middle of the vision, lying prone across a formidable bed, was Van. He was covered from the neck down by a thick blanket. His condition didn't look good. Van's willful mouth was lax, the lips pale in color. His normally golden complexion was ashen. Flyaway, onyx hair haloed his head on the pillow, contrasting starkly with his pallor. His finely sculpted cheekbones and stubborn chin jutted out from the rest of his face a little too distinctly.

 _When did he lose so much weight?_ she wondered. Just as abruptly as the vision came, it dimmed like a dying star and faded out. Hitomi was in the Kanzaki household, her hand on top of the fourth card.

Her heart ached. Something was wrong with Van. His health was waning, and some outside force was the cause of it. Even as she thought this, her hand moved on its own to show the current card, The Devil upright. It signified conflict, temptation, and a lust for power. A shadow was cast over Gaea. It was a malevolent presence, like an angel of death biding its time. Her eyes, blue-green in contemplation, narrowed. Could it be Shadow?

A harsh, alien energy lashed out at Hitomi through the card. She cried out. It felt like the strike of a whip, the bite of a fanged serpent. It zipped through the palms of her hands and twined up her arms. Her teeth chattered and she clamped them together to stop it. The link between worlds, already so ethereal, stretched thinner. Distracted by the attack, Hitomi attempted to shield herself psychically from the onslaught. As she did, the connection slipped away from her and broke.

Silence. No glowing feather. No web work of energy. No enemy.

It took Hitomi some time to recover from the attack. She hugged herself, propped up only by the back of the chair. Last night's headache returned with a vengeance, pummeling the inside of her skull. She was nauseous and tasted bile in her mouth. The room spun when she opened her eyes. Despite all this, her gaze wandered to the last card, the final outcome. She did not recall turning it over, and yet there it was, The Lovers upright.

The Lovers spoke of completion, happiness, divine love, and soul mates. It didn't seem to fit the darker atmosphere of the spread. Had she made a mistake, or had the outside energy interfered with the reading? Hitomi doubted if she'd ever know. All she could be sure of was that she needed to go back to Gaea.

"""""""

The remainder of Sunday passed uneventfully. After concluding the reading, Hitomi re-hid the tarot cards and feather. Her mother returned home from shopping, and they put the groceries away together. For lunch, they shared a leisurely meal of sandwiches and tea. Her mother eventually retired for an afternoon nap. While she slept, Hitomi went to her bedroom, dumped out the messenger bag and backpack, and sorted through what stuff might be useful in the future.

Although Hitomi was fond of the messenger bag, it was not as durable or spacious as the backpack. She opted to leave it behind with some regret. Into the backpack, she stuffed her running shoes, pajamas, and the set of clothes she had intended to wear for school tomorrow. After raiding the upstairs bathroom, she added in an emergency kit, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush, and a pocketknife Mamoru didn't like. It was trickier for her to sneak out to the garage and not disturb her mother. Luckily, she remembered what floorboards groaned and which steps creaked. From the garage, she borrowed a length of rope, a large flashlight, and a dented compass from her father's boyhood.

Back in her room, she stared down at the forsaken assortment of textbooks, spiral notebooks, and folders on the desk. It would be impractical to bring most of them with her. They would just be extra weight to carry. However, two of them, a volume on microbiology and another on anatomy, might prove useful. She deposited them into the backpack, her fingers lingering on their thick covers. Hitomi surveyed the walls of her room, selected two beloved photographs of her family and friends, and slid them in as well.

It was midafternoon when she finished packing, tidying up the room, and writing her farewell letters. She had just sealed the envelope addressed to her parents when the phone rang. Her mother sleepily answered it in the bedroom. Hitomi set the letter to her family on the desk next to one scribbled with the names of Yukari and Amano. Moments later, her mother rose from her nap and tapped on her door.

"Hitomi? That was your father," she said.

"Oh?"

"He's coming home early. If you help me, we can make a truly marvelous dinner. Something to put the pizza last night to shame."

"Great idea, Mom! I'm coming."

"""""""

That night proved to be a restless one for Nao. For hours, she sought to join her husband in slumber. She fluffed her pillow, switched the positions she lay in, and counted enough sheep to form a herd. Nothing worked for her; she just couldn't unwind. She tried to blame the afternoon nap for her sleeplessness. But if she was honest with herself, she knew it was something else. The air was saturated with urgency. It reminded her of a desert anticipating rain. This atmosphere permeated the house, the upstairs hallway, even the room she shared with Daisuke.

 _What can it be?_ _I haven't felt anything like this since the night Mother died,_ she contemplated, her eyes boring into the ceiling. _Whatever it is, I don't like it._

It was also inconvenient, since Nao needed to get up early Monday to drive her daughter back to the college. She sighed wistfully, a part of her wishing Hitomi could stay longer. Nao saw her so rarely since she went away to school. It was nice having her home.

The only bad part of the visit was yesterday's dinner. Between Mamoru's insolence, Daisuke's short temper, and Hitomi's apologies, the whole thing had been a fiasco. During moments like those, she saw the tension in her family but had no clue how to fix it. She remembered a time before Hitomi's problems in high school when her kids got along, Daisuke valued his family more than work, and they were happy.

 _Tonight was wonderful though_ , she reminded herself. The corners of her mouth perked up.

Daisuke had left work surprisingly early, and Mamoru had come straight home from baseball practice rather than hanging out with his friends. While the boys had cleaned up, Hitomi and Nao had put the finishing touches on numerous savory dishes. Nao had to admit, tonight's meal had been one of her best. The Kanzaki family had spent two hours gorging themselves, joking around, and talking animatedly. Mamoru and Daisuke had an engaging discussion on pitching techniques. Hitomi and her brother had exchanged smiles and friendly conversation. And for once, Nao hadn't been the one stuck with the dishes, thanks to her daughter's consideration.

A snorting noise disrupted her thoughts. Nao pivoted her head to watch Daisuke shift onto his side away from her. He took most of the blankets with him. He snuffled his nose and resumed his thunderous snores. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. At least someone was resting well tonight.

Nao decided a cup of chamomile tea might help her to relax. She rose and reached for her fuzzy robe. She knotted it around her flannel nightgown, wiggled her feet into her slippers, and left her husband in their bedroom. She didn't bother to switch on the hall light. Instead, she opted to navigate by memory. After residing in the same house for twenty-two years, she was well acquainted with its layout. She crept past Mamoru's room, his own snores echoing his father's, and then Hitomi's room, where all was silent. Her hand found the smooth banister, and she guided herself down the flight of stairs by its length.

In the living room, waxen moonlight filtered through the bay window. It glossed over a sofa, the top of a television, and a coffee table. The room seemed tiny and lonely at night. Nao's nightgown swished as she glided across the wooden floor to a low table. On top of it was an antique Tiffany lamp. Her hand lifted to the silhouetted lamp, meaning to turn it on, until a flicker of light from the kitchen diverted her attention. She held her breath and observed the orange beam of a flashlight zigzagging about.

 _An intruder? Are we being robbed?_ Nao wondered, her pulse racing. She scanned the living room for something to defend herself with. In the end, all she found was a large umbrella used earlier in the week when it had rained.

She slid, cat-like, to the entrance of the kitchen. Someone opened a drawer. Its contents rustled as a hand fished through it. A slow anger built inside of her at the invasion of her cherished kitchen. Spurred on by this indignity, she brandished the umbrella over her head and flipped on the overhead light. She blinked several times, her eyes protesting the brilliance. As they adjusted, she made out a figure in front of her and readied herself to swing the umbrella.

"Um…Mom?"

Nao dropped her prospective weapon onto the kitchen tiles, astonished to see Hitomi there. Her daughter knelt contritely on the floor. She was fully clothed, a flashlight in her right hand and a packet of seaweed crackers in her left. At her feet was a backpack with a mixture of food items sticking out of it.

"You scared me!" Nao scolded Hitomi.

"S-Sorry, Mom."

"Would you care to explain this? I almost beat you to death with an umbrella." Nao folded her arms disapprovingly.

"I-I know this looks bad, Mom. Honestly, I'm not sure what to tell you or even where to start. I…don't think there's much time." Hitomi flushed and tucked the crackers and flashlight into the backpack. She pushed the articles down and zipped the bag shut.

"If you need food at your apartment, we can buy some tomorrow. Are you out of money?"

"No, it's not that." Hitomi hoisted the backpack onto her shoulders and straightened up. She kept her eyes trained on her feet.

Nao peered down as well and realized Hitomi had her shoes on inside of the house. _What's she doing? Daisuke and I taught her better manners than this. Oh, I just cleaned the floors!_ she lamented, eyebrows drawing together.

Hitomi edged around Nao and faced the living room. "I'm sorry, Mom. You won't understand now, but I left a letter for you upstairs. It tells you everything. I don't know when I'll return…or even if I can."

"You're not making any sense." Her daughter's voice, sad and anxious, troubled Nao. She put her hand on Hitomi's arm. "Do you mean visiting again before the semester's end? That's fine. You study hard. We'll be-"

Suddenly, Hitomi rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Nao's neck. "I love you, Mom," she whispered huskily. "And Dad. Even Mamoru. I love you all! Please remember that."

Caught off guard, Nao scarcely registered the embrace and Hitomi's cryptic words before she was released. Her oldest child pulled back, tears dripping down her cheeks, and ran into the living room. Hitomi's behavior scared her; it seemed like a final goodbye. Nao called for her daughter, hesitated a heartbeat, and then chased after her.

 _Is she having another breakdown? Is she trying to hurt herself?_ Nao panicked, slippers smacking the wood floor.

Already at the living room door, Hitomi unfastened the lock and threw it open. The door banged against the wall. Nao called her daughter's name a second time, but Hitomi didn't appear to hear her. Without hesitation, Hitomi sprinted out of the house and into the night. Nao clutched the folds of her robe and nightgown in her hands and hoisted them above her calves. Puffing, she rushed through the door and into the front yard, hoping to close the gap between Hitomi and herself.

Hitomi stopped a few meters past the maple tree. She hovered by the fence which separated the Kanzaki property from the road. She was backlit by a neighboring streetlight, her profile as distant as a stranger's. Hitomi stretched her arms towards the sky, as if reaching for someone.

She shouted overhead, "Stars, please help me! One last time, take me to Gaea!"

Nao's cheeks flamed from exertion. She jogged ever closer to her daughter and fretted about the neighbors. Had Hitomi's shouts disturbed them? Would they complain tomorrow? She had just reached the maple when she noticed something abnormal. It was a still night, but the hem of Hitomi's cardigan flapped around her in a nonexistent breeze. Then strands of her short hair lifted straight up, and sparks of static electricity pinged off the soles of her shoes.

That strange sensation of something important about to happen swept over Nao once more. As it did, an oval of hot, white-azure light appeared beneath Hitomi. It crackled and sputtered, and then it snaked violently upwards. It streamed into the sky, on and on. It was like a tower of shimmering crystal, a funnel of lightning. The intensity of it bleached the colors from the surrounding area and rendered the night into day. A sound like the crack of a whip reverberated through the air forlornly.

Nao recognized immediately what the phenomenon was. She had grown up with her mother telling stories about it in exquisite detail. It was just as Yuri had described, beautiful and dangerous, a pillar of light.

And it took people away.

"Hitomi! Come back!" Nao cried.

The pillar's aftershock was terrible. Energy emanated from it in pulsating, translucent waves. The force of it pushed Nao back several steps. She put her hands up to protect her face and stumbled onto her knees. Her robe and nightgown billowed around her, and tendrils of her hair lashed her face. The maple thrashed violently over her, caught up in its own storm. Its branches strained and trunk moaned.

Nao's eyes never left the form of her daughter in the pillar. For a moment, she swore that Hitomi blurred and became transparent, and then she swam back into focus amid the river of starlight. An unseen force defied gravity and elevated her off the grass. The intuitive little hairs on Nao's neck and arms rose up. _It's here for Hitomi. It wants her_ , she understood, horrified.

"No! Don't go!" Nao's knees quivered as she struggled to stand.

She crawled across the ground and latched onto the trunk of the maple. She used its strength to pull herself to her feet, her robe and nightgown fighting her the whole time. Determinedly, she thrust her whole body against the winds of the pillar. Her mouse brown hair flowed behind her in a horizontal line. She gained slow momentum against the supernatural onslaught. The bottoms of her feet went numb from the pricking sensation of electricity. The closer she got to the center of the pillar, the more her eyes watered from the intensity of the light.

At last, Nao was in the heart of the pillar of light. Her hair arched up in a skyward lance. Her robe and nightgown rose around her knees. Nao's ears popped, and she had a sense of vertigo, of there being no up or down. Movement was brought to almost a complete standstill. It took a lifetime to wade through the surging light, and Nao's body ached in time with her heartbeat from doing so. When she was beneath where her daughter floated, she wept in joy and frustration. Hitomi never noticed her desperate journey or heard her frantic pleas. Eyes closed, she allowed the light to embrace her, apparently trusting it.

There was no opportunity for Nao to gather her wits, no breath for hesitation. She sprang clumsily up, reaching for Hitomi before the pillar could take her higher. Her right slipper slithered off of her foot and dropped away. She ignored it, fixated on her daughter. As Nao leapt, the light added to her momentum. It propelled her up and up, as high now as the crown of the tree. Her fingers grazed the top of Hitomi's foot, once, twice. She clawed that hand into the canvas of the sneaker.

"Hitomi! I'm here!"

Something insistent wriggled between Nao's palm and the shoe. Invisible hands pried her fingers off of Hitomi's sneaker, one at a time. Nao fumbled, dug her nails into a shoelace, and lost her grip altogether. Instead, she grasped a silvery feather and plummeted down to earth. Her arms pinwheeled and legs kicked. She was certain she was going to die, but something whooshed up and caught her. It deposited Nao kindly onto the grass, bruised but safe.

She kept her eyes trained on Hitomi as the pillar swept her up, up into the sky. Another radiant eruption made Nao cover her face with her forearm. When she dared to look seconds later, both Hitomi and the pillar of light had vanished.

"Hitomi! Hitomi!" Nao howled her loss into the night, accompanied by only a feather.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

This chapter was 12 pages. Possibility of more edits later. ^.^; I worked hard, so please enjoy! Next up, Gaea!


	6. Chapter 6

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Six"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: The Main Road is the route that the Wolves, Van, and Hitomi took to Fanelia in Episode 2. Instances of dialogue, such as _[abcde]_ , represent telepathic communication.

In regards to this chapter, I owe a debt of gratitude to Mystical-Grace for her insightfulness and (long-term! ^_^) support.

Edited 6/5/2017 for cohesion and word choice.

"""""""

A reedy noise trilled by Hitomi's ear. She surfaced from the deep ocean of oblivion, its enigmatic waters lapping at her mind. The alarm persistently chirped again. She moaned, batted at the clock with her hand, and encountered only flat space. Something tickled her cheek and nose. She pushed away what felt like cool, plastic hair, but it came back to brush her face again. Annoyed, she tried to snuggle into a fetal position and found the movements of her shoulders and back restricted. It occurred to her that if she was in bed, then the mattress was awfully firm.

She opened dazed eyes and registered several things all at once. She lay on her side in moonlit grass; it was their slender blades caressing her face. Her hip ached from a clod of dirt digging into it. The straps of an overloaded backpack bit into her shoulders. Further off now, the cricket, whose home she had invaded, chirruped a third time. Hitomi flared her nostrils and sniffed the sweet, herbaceous scent of the grass. It reminded her of someone.

Van.

Reality came back to her in a rush. She sat up too quickly, and the world around her spun. Waiting for the lightheadedness to abate, Hitomi shrugged off the backpack and stretched the cramps out of her body. She winced as she rotated her arms and assessed other places on her physique that smarted. She likely sported new bruises from the latest trip in the pillar of light.

The journey between dimensions hadn't been as seamless and fluid as the previous ones. Instead, it had felt choppy and disjointed, as if the pillar might wink out entirely at any time. Most terrifying had been a moment when she thought she was falling into a cavity of nothingness and couldn't breathe. Somehow, she had survived the interdimensional flight, although she had fainted midway. Though she had meant for the pillar to take her directly to Van, it had deposited her in the middle of nowhere.

 _Did I make it?_ _Am I even on Gaea?_ she apprehensively wondered. Well, there was one way to be certain.

Feeling less dizzy, Hitomi peered up to the heavens. It was still night and the jet sky overflowed with stars. They formed a glittering river of dots, winking red, indigo, and gold. There was no city light pollution or smog here. A scattering of vaporous clouds drifted overhead, backlit by a bleached moon. Alongside of it shown an ethereal, blue counterpart; it was her home, the Earth.

Hitomi licked her lips. _Okay. I'm definitely somewhere on Gaea. That's a start. Thank you, stars, for that much._ She surmised the rest of her surroundings.

She sat in the middle of a meadow encircled on three sides by trees. Behind her were young saplings bunched together on the outskirts of a forest. Because of the bright moons, she saw the eerie forest continued on into the distance and melded with the dark. It reminded her of the rich forests of Fanelia, and the terrain was certainly hilly enough to be so. If she was in Fanelia, she could possibly navigate herself to the castle. Her memory of the area wasn't very good, but she could compensate for that with her dowsing ability and the feather.

Hitomi reached habitually into her jeans pocket for Van's feather. She had shoved the quill into it when she snuck from her room, wanting to keep it close. Her fingers met only fuzzy lint and the pocket's fabric lining. Incredulous, she checked the opposite hip's pocket and the back ones but remained empty-handed. She unzipped the backpack, retrieved the cylindrical flashlight, and flipped it on. On her hands and knees, she combed through the tall grass for the elusive feather. The flashlight's yellow beam weaved back and forth over stones, wildflowers, and bugs. She searched for some minutes with her worst fear escalating. At last, she sat in the grass, the flashlight across her lap, and admitted defeat.

The feather was lost.

"Damn it," she hissed and thumped her fist against the ground.

How was she to find her way to Van now? Without the feather to guide her, Hitomi felt lost. Still, she must do something. Van was in danger, and there was no time to hesitate. She would do her best to dowse without the pendant or the feather. She did remember that Fanelia's Capital lay somewhere north in the mountainous Valley of the Dragons. Nibbling her bottom lip, she rummaged once more through the backpack and pulled out her father's derelict compass.

Hitomi stood up with the compass cupped in her hand and shined the flashlight down upon it. Its red needle wobbled back and forth. She pivoted slightly, hoping that Gaea had magnetic poles similar to Earth's. After another shift, the needle lined up with the N on the compass. She glanced up and scowled where it pointed into the depths of the forest.

People didn't normally travel through forests alone back home, and here she was on another planet considering doing just that. She knew very well how dangerous Gaea's fantastic creatures could be. If this place really was Fanelia, as she guessed, there could be dragons in there. _Well, I never let a dragon stop me before_ , she stubbornly reminded herself. _Van is worth the risk._

She double-checked her pockets for holes and was satisfied there were none. With that, she took the pocketknife and rope from the bag. Hitomi coiled the rope, secured it to the outside of the backpack, and buried the pocketknife in a front pocket. She hoisted the straps of her backpack onto her shoulders and started off on surer feet through the sea of grass. At the sapling line, she glanced at the compass again before inserting it into another pocket and hiking into the forest.

The vegetation thinned around Hitomi's sneakers, and the trees grew lofty and ancient. Their protruding roots and man-sized trunks obstructed the flashlight's illumination and slowed her pace. Soon, the meadow disappeared behind the trees, and the temperature dropped further. She wrapped the cardigan sweater tighter around her, buried her hands in the sleeves, and hugged herself for warmth. The forest smelled of damp earth, cinnamon-spiced bark, and green life. Tapestries of silvery vines hung from branches, some low enough to brush the top of her head. Once, a mesh of cobwebs stuck to her fingers and face. She cursed the spider as she plucked the filaments off of her cheek and wiped her hand on her leg.

The trek was mostly uneventful, minus a stubbed toe and a couple of rest breaks. The compass and flashlight kept her oriented. She had yet to try dowsing; she was afraid she might not be able to do it anymore. Surprisingly, she encountered little wildlife. An owl hooted in the distance, and something snuffled briefly at her from a bush. The sky dawned smoke gray, lavender, and then rose. It took some time for the light to penetrate the dense canopy of the forest. By true sunrise, the forest was murky but otherwise visible. Mist shrouded the mix of pine and deciduous trees, lending them an air of mystery. The burgundy and gold of the broad leaf trees contrasted with the overall green of the forest.

 _It seems to be autumn here, too_ , Hitomi surmised. Even with a second visit to Gaea, she remained uncertain of how time passed on the planets. Judging from Grandma Yuri and Leon Schezar's encounter, she supposed time was faster on Earth than on Gaea. To occupy herself, she pondered this and the weakened state of the pillar of light.

Eventually, she came upon a clearing of felled trees and gazed sadly at their forsaken stumps. Some trees were uprooted and left on their sides like beached whales. Even in death, their roots clutched at bits of the earth they had so loved. Branches chopped from trunks were arranged in tidy piles. Logs were stacked into pyramids or had been rolled down a slope. Hitomi sheltered by such a pyramid. She ate a banana and a little bag of chips, drank some water from a plastic bottle, and slept fitfully for a couple of hours. When she woke, the late morning was golden and warm. She descended the slope via a woodsman's trail, passing what remained of the tree carcasses.

At the bottom of the hill, the forest unexpectedly melted away and a road appeared. The sight of it after so much greenery stunned Hitomi. This road couldn't compare to those of Earth, but for Gaea, it was truly impressive. Its modern state boasted cobbled, rectangular stones with ditches dug on either side for water runoff. It was quite wide; she surmised two wagons could easily travel abreast on it.

Five years ago, people had traversed Fanelia on dirt trails worn by hoofed beasts and carts. These paths had converged into a single great road that extended from north to south. The people of the old kingdom had simply referred to it as the Main Road. It had led directly to Fanelia's Capital and extended beyond that to the border of Daedalus. It was the way that Van, the Wolves, and Hitomi had taken to the White Castle so long ago.

She suspected from the grandeur of the avenue that it was the Main Road. To be certain, she checked its direction with the compass and nodded in satisfaction when the needle confirmed her hunch. If she followed it, the road would surely take her to civilization, and she then could ask someone how far from the Capital she was.

Hitomi hopped across the small, currently dry, ditch and landed on the cobbles. She continued on ever north, her footing better and progress easier. By the afternoon, her stomach burbled from hunger, and her throat was parched with thirst. The sun pelted her with its cheerful beams. A haze rising off the road ahead of her warped her sight. She tied the cardigan around her waist and wished for sunscreen. The Fanelian backdrop was beautiful in its autumn splendor and more colorful than a painter's canvas. The last of hardy blue and pink wildflowers competed with vermillion bushes and yellowing grass in vibrant hues. On either side of the road, ever present, flowed the jungle-green of the forest.

Her earlier optimism dwindled after hours of walking. Fatigued, she drew off to the side of the road, munched on some teriyaki seaweed crackers, and downed the last of the water bottle's contents. She sat in the shade of a tree and dozed for a bit. An incessant pounding interrupted her nap. Hitomi's lashes lifted, and she gazed groggily down the road where the sound originated. She realized that the rhythmic drumming was hoof beats. A rider and mount were fast approaching from the south.

Hitomi repacked her meager possessions and looped her arms through the backpack's straps. She kept near to the ditch and turned towards the oncoming hoof beats. A dun-colored mount thundered by on cloven hooves. Its back was curved like a horse's, with a stag's fine legs, and a camel's handsome neck. A flyswatter tail smacked against its haunches as its three toed feet pranced on the cobblestones. Thin, coarse hair flowed down its neck and protruded from its fetlocks and ears. Its eyes were big and intelligent, set in a goat-like head with large, comical ears.

The rider, who was in light armor, tugged on the yerkle's reins. The animal bawled in objection but eased its pace. The rider and mount circled back to Hitomi. Sweat darkened the yerkle to a burnished blond. Its sides heaved from exertion, and it chewed temperamentally on the bit of its bridle. The rider was not much better off. Perspiration matted his coal dark hair to his skull. The metal plates of his armor bore scratches, and pieces were obviously missing. His dirtied garments, the remnants of some kind of uniform, were ripped and peppered with browned blood stains and dirt. He bled from a gash across a cheek and what appeared to be a shallow wound on his forearm. She was relieved to see another person but wary of the traveler's less than clean appearance.

"You, woman," he barked down at her.

 _He's not very polite. Certainly not an Allen. More of a Van_ , she observed. She shaded her face with a hand and smiled as benignly as she could up at him.

"Good afternoon," she politely replied.

He pulled the yerkle to a halt. "Where're you headed?"

"Is this the Main Road?"

"Ah, an outlander," he said with a glance at her peculiar clothes. "Yes, it is."

The verification relieved her. "Wonderful. Then I'm going north, towards the Capital."

"Good. Don't go south if you can help it."

Hitomi's eyebrows drew together. "Why's that?"

"That way is dangerous. I hope you're not by yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not," she assured him, the lie unexpectedly smooth on her tongue. Hitomi pointed off towards the forest. "My husband is finishing his, ah, business."

"I see."

"What do you mean that south is dangerous?"

"You haven't heard? There's Demons roaming about. That's how I got these." He winced as he gingerly touched the claw marks on his breastplate. "I killed one of the beasts, but the other two eluded me. Last I saw, they were going south. I'm on my way to the nearest village, Arzas, to warn them."

"Demons?"

The rider's laugh was tired and disbelieving. "You really must come from faraway. I thought all of Gaea knew about Demons by now."

"Sorry. Not me."

"It seems your husband still hasn't finished pissing."

"Oh, ah, maybe he's…doing…" She blushed and trailed off, too humiliated to mention the alternative.

The corner of the rider's mouth turned up. "You're alone. It's not safe these days to travel alone, especially for an unarmed woman."

"I'm fine. I can take care of myself," she willfully answered and lifted the backpack higher onto her shoulders.

"There's trouble other than Demons to be wary of. Land dragons, wyverns, robbers." He shook his head. "I'm afraid your imaginary husband wouldn't be of much protection against them."

"Maybe you're a robber yourself," she shot back.

The rider snorted. "Me? That's quite funny. Ha and ha. Feisty, aren't you? Look here."

He tapped his breastplate again. Hitomi squinted and moved closer, ever mindful of the yerkle as it stomped its hooves. At the top of the rider's breastplate was a red diamond with a golden shape reminiscent of a dragon's head. She recognized the symbol immediately; it was the crest of Fanelia.

"You work for the king?" she asked guardedly.

"I'm in the army, one of His Majesty's…er…soldiers. I was sent three days ago to hunt the Demons when word reached the Capital."

Hitomi scoffed, "Only you?"

"I'm all that was needed." The rider winked at her.

She bristled at the man's ego. "Now you're going to leave with the job half done?"

A troubled expression crossed the rider's face. "I've been away too long. I must return."

Hitomi fisted her hands around the backpack's straps. She worried the rider knew something of Van's condition that she didn't, but she was too afraid to ask. It was likely the castle would keep the king's illness hushed so as not to panic people. As an outsider, being privy to such sensitive information might draw unwanted attention to her.

"I can't leave you here by yourself, woman. I plan to stay the night in Arzas. Since we're both on our way to the Capital, you should come with me." The rider gazed back in the direction he had come from. "I wouldn't sleep well tonight if I thought that a Demon had made a snack out of you."

She glowered up at the rider. "I have a name, you know, and it's not 'woman.'"

"My apologies, dear _lady_." The rider bowed his head, a familiar, sideways grin playing on his lips. She'd seen that expression somewhere before. "And what might your _ladyship's_ name be?"

"Hitomi."

"Very well, Hi-to-mi." The rider leaned down and offered her his hand. "Will you come with me to Arzas?"

After a slight hesitation, Hitomi nodded her agreement. Her intuition told her that the rider, albeit an impolite smartass, wasn't lying and meant her no harm. It would be faster traveling by yerkle than by foot. If the rider took her to Arzas, she'd be about a day's journey from the Capital. More importantly, she could seek out an old friend of Van's, Ruhm, the leader of the Wolves. He might help her get to the Capital and into the castle.

She clasped the rider's hand and eyeballed the saddle with distrust. It was a tottery-looking contraption with a high back and flimsy stirrups. Hitomi guessed it was built for long distance travel. It reminded her of a banana shaped boat. On either side of it hung durable, leather bags from straps. One rider and his possessions could comfortably fit on the yerkle's back, but two passengers and a backpack would be snug.

The yerkle fidgeted as she fumbled to get her left foot into the stirrup. Hitomi went through two humiliating attempts to mount, both times losing her balance. It took some acrobatics and a yank up from the rider to finally position her behind him. She wiggled around on the yerkle's hard back and tightened her thighs against its sides. Being so far off the ground unsettled her, and the leather back of the saddle bit into her belly. The backpack, already cumbersome on foot, now impeded her balance. It would be easy to topple off of the yerkle with the shifting backpack's weight if she weren't careful.

Sensing her discomfort, the yerkle neighed and shuffled sideways. The muscles of its rump and hind legs bunched beneath Hitomi. Startled by the beast's movement, she wrapped her arms tight around the rider's lean waist in response. She clung unabashedly to him; he had become the most stable thing in the world to her. The armor plates on his back poked awkwardly against her breasts. That didn't matter as much to her as not falling off did.

The rider patted the creature's neck. "Poor man. You're tired, and here you are with an extra load. It won't be for much longer."

Hitomi grit her teeth and wrinkled her nose. She got a pungent whiff of old sweat, dried blood, and animal musk.

"You all right back there?" asked the rider. He wheeled the yerkle around with a pull of the reins.

"Ah, you should know, I've never ridden before," Hitomi begrudgingly admitted.

"I guessed as much."

"Well, I'm just saying. Please don't, um, gallop."

The rider actually grinned over his shoulder at her. "Why, certainly not, your _ladyship_."

"Plain Hitomi is fine." She fought to suppress her rising irritation. "You never told me your name."

"Oh, it's Aldric. And I suggest you hold on." He kneed the yerkle, and it obediently trotted forward. The jarring motion rattled Hitomi's bones. She locked her arms and legs, praying to whatever god might be listening that she make it to Arzas safely.

"""""""

That afternoon, Aldric and Hitomi alternated between walking alongside of the yerkle and riding it for brief periods. Despite his earlier skirmish, Aldric proved to be loud and jovial. He passed the time by telling biting jokes, singing Fanelian folksongs, and conversing with her. Originally, he asked her questions about where her homeland was and its customs. She gave only vague, awkward responses. Her eyes often drifted to the jade handled sword he wore at his waist or belted to the yerkle's saddle. When he switched the topic to current Gaean events, Hitomi perked up and paid more attention to the conversation.

Over the course of their journey, she learned much had changed on Gaea since she was last in it. The Gaeans called the conflict started by Zaibach the Great Gaean War. It was the first time in their history that so many countries had fought against each other. As a result, it was also their largest recorded loss of life. After the Great Gaean War, control of Zaibach fell to the Alliance, and they created a Board of Allies to oversee the country and the fulfilment of its reparations.

Basram, the great victor of the war, encouraged the establishment of a democratic form of government in Zaibach. With the Alliance's consent, Zaibach's people elected their first president, the former general of the Red Copper Army, Adelphos Gein. Over the years, President Gein reported to the Board of Allies, a party of representatives chosen from each nation of the Alliance. The Board planned to adjourn once Zaibach's economy recovered, but they had yet to turn governance of the country over to the president and his fellow officials.

After the war, Emperor Dornkirk's cult of enigmatic sorcerers disappeared. This proved to be one of Aldric's favorite subjects. He spoke animatedly of rumors that had surfaced about the sorcerers and expanded on his own idea of what had actually happened to them. He theorized that the surviving sorcerers might be conspiring together to carry out Emperor Dornkirk's past work. Hitomi followed along politely for a bit. Eventually, she steered Aldric's talk towards Fanelia and inquired about its recovery after the war.

A patriotic Fanelian, Aldric relayed with pride that, despite substantial damage from Zaibach's attack, Fanelia was thriving. Aside from a few scars on the landscape, the country was otherwise restored. According to him, the Fanelian refugees returned almost immediately to rebuild their nation. When they did, they found parts of the castle, shrine, and royal burial grounds untouched by the fire that had razed the Capital. The Fanelians took that as a sign of their nation's resilience. With their morale bolstered, they built better roads, towns, villages, inns, farms, and markets. They harvested small, closely monitored sections of their forests and mountains for resources. Fragrant Fanelian timber and raw gold, silver, and iron proved to be top exports. Along with the money from Zaibach, trade boomed in Fanelia, adding to the country's wealth.

As Fanelia prospered, its population increased, both from births and an influx of other Gaeans. Persecuted Beast People, Cesarian escaped slaves, people fleeing militaristic nations, and Fanelian sympathizers were all drawn to the country. Aldric said that the Dragon King embraced this new diversity. As king, Van possessed the highest office in the land, but he founded the Council of Dragons to act on behalf of the people. Fanelians chose four delegates to advice Van and represent them. Alongside of the Council, Van appointed a fourth advisor, the King's Voice, to act in his stead. So far, the Council and Van had outlawed murder, torture, rape, slavery, and domestic abuse in Fanelia. Under their laws, Beast People were accepted as full citizens, and both genders shared equal rights. Currently, the Council was debating a complex system of punishments for breaking these laws.

Aldric kicked a pebble with his metal-shod boot. "And so, here we Fanelians are, a hotbed of new political ideas. At least these are changes decided by the people. They weren't just forced upon us like the Alliance did to Zaibach."

"Still, it's amazing how Fanelia has grown," Hitomi admired. She smiled softly, impressed by what Van had helped to facilitate.

"I suppose this is your first time seeing the Capital?"

She considered her reply carefully. "I saw the old Capital once. I was very sorry to hear about the fire. I'd like to see it now after having been rebuilt. It must be beautiful."

"It's impressive, if I do say so." Aldric's chest puffed up a bit.

"I'm sure it is."

"What brings you to Fanelia?" Aldric's amber eyes studied her face for her reaction. "Sightseeing? Trading?"

Hitomi bristled involuntarily and forced herself to relax. "Oh, I'm visiting a relative who moved to the Capital."

"A relative of the husband we left back there making a river?" he chuckled. That same, bizarrely memorable grin crossed his tan face.

 _Where have I seen that expression before?_ Hitomi pondered. She ducked her head and coughed into her fist to avoid answering immediately. Her cheeks flamed with consternation. The rider, Aldric, was too good at reading people. He saw through every fib she invented even before it left her lips.

Belatedly, Hitomi noted that she was numerous paces ahead of Aldric and his yerkle. It was the beast's low, troubled whinny that caused her to stop though. The yerkle planted its hooves and refused to go further forward. Aldric towed on the reins, and when that had no effect, he returned to the beast's side and rubbed its neck. It widened its nostrils and waved its ears back and forth, listening. Despite Aldric soothing it, the yerkle's bulging eyes never left the Main Road ahead of them.

"Easy, man. What's wrong?" Aldric patted the yerkle's neck, but his eyes, too, sought what lay ahead of them.

A sudden, otherworldly iciness warned Hitomi of trouble. It numbed her toes, fingers, and cheeks. Her heartbeat quickened, blocking out Aldric's murmurings and the yerkle's distress. The blue-sky day faded to pitch. In this realm, there was no road or sky, no up or down. Hitomi gasped and spun around, searching for light of some kind. She waved her hands in front of her face and saw nothing. A pale dot manifested in the distance. It swelled larger and larger, until she understood, horrified, what she beheld.

The creature was humanoid, with two arms and legs. However, its limbs were wrong, elongated and strangely jointed. It crawled on all fours and moved unexpectedly swiftly doing so. The body, devoid of clothing or hair, was the gray-white of a corpse. Tough skin covered a distorted, angular skeleton. The torso stretched abnormally long with an emaciated ribcage. Instead of fingers and toes, it sported wicked claws like a tiger's. Worst of all was the creature's head, more reptilian than human. Its facial features seemed compressed to mere vestiges of a nose, brow, and mouth. It had black orbs for eyes, sucking in the world around it, and pointed ears.

The tiny hairs on Hitomi's arms stood up in full alert. She had seen something similar to this creature on Earth; it resembled the entity known as Shadow.

Sensing her presence, the creature unhinged its snake-like jaw and bared nasty, curving teeth at her. They were the teeth of a predator, of a shark. It _hissed_ at her. Hitomi gasped and backed away from the monstrosity. It advanced towards her, the rangy movements of a hunting beast. The plane of darkness pooled in around her, and she opened her eyes to sunlight and a forest cradled road.

 _[You must run.]_ An inaudible voice sang through her mind.

Shaking, Hitomi scanned the road and forest. The sun hung low in the west. Its buttery crown barely skimmed above the treetops. Gone were the earlier twitters and whistles of songbirds. She edged closer to Aldric and the yerkle.

"A-Aldric," she whispered. Her tongue was clumsy and thick. She swallowed and tried again. "Something is coming."

With his left hand, Aldric anchored the yerkle in place with the reins. His right hand rested on the hilt of the sword sheathed at his waist. "Get on the yerkle. Ride to Arzas."

"W-What about you?"

"I'll distract them. Give you a chance to escape."

"I-I can't do that."

Before either could say more, a phantasmal shape materialized from out of the forest. Its milky white hide faintly glowed in the descending sun. It loped on all fours through the ditch and froze on the cobbled road. The creature's snout pointed high, as if reading the local scents. Hitomi's heart threatened to wing from her breast; it beat so furiously her sternum ached. She watched the creature from her vision as it watched them. It reared up onto its legs, grotesquely man-like and somehow not.

 _[Run now!]_

Hitomi obeyed the voice's second command. She launched herself forward, arms pumping, legs pummeling the cobbles. The old sprinter in her took over. Each of her strides lengthened and accelerated. She put as much distance between Aldric, the yerkle, and herself as possible. He shouted a warning, and the yerkle shrieked in panic. A banshee-like screech followed shortly after. She felt the wind from her attacker as it burst out of the forest on her right and landed in the spot where she had been.

The toe of her sneaker chafed against the stones. The friction of it caught her in midstride, and her left ankle gave out beneath her. She tumbled to the ground, the breath knocked from her lungs. The backpack thumped painfully against her back. It took mere seconds for Hitomi to recover her wits, fetch the knife from her pocket, and release the small blade. She rotated onto her back just as the second creature leapt once more at her.

Hitomi smelled the monster's carrion breath and felt the rubbery consistency of its flesh. She met the black holes of its eyes and swore oblivion leered back. The weight of the creature arched her over the backpack and pinned her legs down. Its claws raked the stones around her, the tips emitting sparks and scratching columns into her forearms. Her scream matched the volume of its furious howl. A serpentine tongue flicked out and dribbled hot saliva on her face.

She thrusted her left hand into its neck and locked her elbow, desperately fending off its snapping jaws. Her arm trembled from exhaustion, the elbow threatening to bend as the creature lunged for her throat. Its strength was incredible. If the creature hadn't been simultaneously trying to anchor her down and bite off her head, she would never have been able to keep its maw at bay.

 _[Quickly! The eye!]_

Following the voice's direction, she stabbed the pocketknife up to the hilt in the monster's eye; it was like slicing through jelly. When the blade hit a hard surface, it stuck there. She let go of the pocketknife immediately. Slimy, mud-colored blood squirted from the ruined socket. The creature squealed and reared up in blind agony. The shrill noise, like metal on a chalkboard, hurt her ears. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose up at the strangeness of the sound. With most of the creature's weight off of her, Hitomi kicked her freed legs as hard as she could into its stomach. Air escaped from its gut in a sinister wheeze. The creature glared at her with the single abyss of its eye and raised its claws to swipe across her face.

Before the blow landed, a metallic beam whistled through the monster's flesh. Its head plummeted from the stump of its neck and bounced sickeningly away. More of the viscous blood rained down upon Hitomi. The creature's body shuddered and collapsed on top of her. Repulsed, she shunted the carcass aside and wriggled her way out from under it, panting and babbling nonsense.

"Hitomi!" Someone leaned over her. Cautiously, she unglued her eyes from the dead creature. It was Aldric, his sword dripping midnight. "Calm down. You're safe."

A stench of decayed meat and the creature's sour blood lingered in her nose. She tasted bile in her mouth, a bitter, partially digested mass. Her sides heaved and gut bubbled. Gagging, Hitomi sat up, bowed sideways, and vomited her most recent meal. Thankfully, it had been a modest one. After her stomach was empty, Aldric retrieved a canteen, which was like a balloon made of animal hide, from one of his saddlebags. Hitomi accepted it gratefully, unwound the cord from its throat, and poured water into her mouth from the wooden nozzle. She rinsed and spat out the leftover nastiness.

She gulped the liquid down and panned the area for the dead creature's companion. "W-Where's the other one?"

"Dead." Aldric retied the cord around the canteen and returned it to the saddlebag.

"B-But how?"

Aldric laid his sword down and put his hands under Hitomi's armpits. He heaved her up onto her quivering legs. "They killed it."

"T-They?" she echoed witlessly.

Behind Aldric, Hitomi observed a trio of rugged, furred newcomers. They wore belted kilts, tunics, and no shoes. One toted a huge, dirty broadsword. They dropped the corpse of the second monster next to its partner. The tallest, brawniest of the Wolves approached Hitomi. His face was alight with recognition.

"Thought I smelled someone familiar," he beamed, showing sharp teeth. He spread his powerful arms wide. "Welcome back, little lady."

Hitomi staggered into the Wolfman's embrace and hid her face in the comfort of his fuzzy chest. "Hello, Ruhm," she sniffed.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

""""""'

There are so many people I want to thank this time around. To start with, I want to "shout out" to the newest reviewers: Brausepanther, Freedom, bluetreeleaves, and nofreakingway.

On a similar note, I want to recognize the readers who have been following along so diligently: theladyhitomi, pinkdynamite, Pandorababe, banryuu, and Mystical-Grace.

Honestly, all of you just rock! ^_^ Thanks again for all the feedback, pointers, comments, and support. *bows* (I'm still slowly responding to reviews and PMS, so please be patient with me! ^.^ )


	7. Chapter 7

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Seven"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: At this point in the story, along the terms of Earth's timeline, we are into day four, Monday. From here on, everything switches to Gaea's timeline. I've done quite a bit of research into Gaea's countries, but there are some holes that I have opted to fill with my imagination.

This chapter's shout out goes to Devnick16 for being the (latest) newest reviewer. ^_^ As always, I want to thank everyone for the follows, reviews, and encouragement.

Edited 6/10/2017

"""""""

Stepping back from Ruhm, Hitomi scrutinized the ravaged corpses of the creatures. Someone had dropped the head of the one killed by Aldric next to its torso. Its companion sported a deep slash across the chest, right over its heart. The blow had been forceful enough to break the beast's ribcage. She guessed it was the handiwork of the Wolf with the large broadsword. At some point over the last few minutes, the creatures began to decay. Their predatory faces sank inward, and their bodies stiffened and thinned.

 _So, these are Demons_ , she acknowledged, her repugnance mixed with pity. _They were human once._

Aldric striding forward distracted Hitomi from the gruesome scene. He clasped forearms with Ruhm. The Wolf towered over him with Aldric's head just level at Ruhm's shoulders. Hitomi envied them both their height.

"We were on the way to see you," Aldric said. "If I'd known you were nearby, I'd've howled."

Ruhm's melted chocolate eyes danced. "Probably off key, if you howl the way you sing."

"W-Wait." Hitomi blinked and swiveled her head back and forth between the two. "You two know each other?"

"My pack has long been friends of the Arbanes and Fanels." Ruhm folded his massive arms, the biceps swelling. Surprise dawned on his face. "Don't tell me you were traveling with one of the generals of Fanelia and didn't know it."

"He failed to mention that little tidbit." Having recovered some composure, she managed to shoot a glare Aldric's way.

He waved a hand at her. "The lady's a foreigner. She couldn't possibly have heard of me or my legendary sword skills."

The Wolf with the broadsword guffawed. He held the reins of Aldric's yerkle. "Ha! Such prowess! Then why'd you need me to save your ass?"

"Even legendary swordsmen, such as myself, can't be expected to do everything," Aldric quipped. The broadsword Wolf chuckled and also gripped arms with him.

Ruhm shook his head in amusement. The fur on his rectangular face ranged between beige to glossy brunet. He had a dog's moist, button nose and a ready smile. Coffee bean colored fur covered most of his formidable body. He had grown his shaggy mane out, and it now cascaded down his back in an unkempt tangle. He went shoeless; his padded, canine feet well suited for travel. Like his followers, the Wolf wore a sleeveless tunic and a belted kilt which extended to his knees. The kilt offered a broader range of movement for his feathery tail. From his leather belt hung the scabbard of a thick, curved sword. A necklace of stringed fangs around Ruhm's neck designated his position as a pack leader. They tinkled as he moved.

"Bet you haven't told Aldric who you are." Ruhm winked at Hitomi. One of his rounded ears twitched.

She half-shrugged, too worn out from traveling and the recent ordeal to do a full one. "He felt trustworthy enough, but I was being careful."

"Me? Trustworthy? Why, dear lady, wherever would you get such a preposterous notion? I only saved your life, after all." Aldric sniffed and readjusted his chest plate.

"Why don't you introduce yourselves properly?" Ruhm suggested. "This'll interest you, Arbane."

The third Wolf, a quiet, older fellow, materialized beside Hitomi with a striped sash. He handed it to her and pantomimed for her to wipe her face and arms. Belatedly, she recalled being showered in the creature's gooey blood and the fresh scratches from its claws. She had gotten used to the sour smell of the blood while conversing with Ruhm and Aldric. The scratches were, thankfully, shallow. In her fatigued state, they were just another sore area on an already abused body. Flushing, she thanked the Wolf and sponged what she could of the blood from her face, neck, and hands.

"Fine, fine. I see I must go first." Aldric faced Hitomi and bowed as low as his armor would let him. "I am Aldric Arbane, General of the Horn Army of Fanelia, loyal servant of the Dragon King. I was dispatched by the Capital three days ago to hunt down a band of Demons. I killed them-"

"Two, you mean," corrected the broadsword Wolf while stroking the yerkle's nose. It blew rapid, nervous breaths out of its nostrils, but its earlier shaking had stopped.

"Er, two of them, and here we are."

Hitomi frowned. "I don't see why you didn't just tell me."

"Why, for the sake of mystery, your ladyship!"

"He's also the cousin to the king of Fanelia," softly added Ruhm.

Hitomi's lips parted in shock. _Of course! That grin. It's so familiar, because it's the same as Van's_ , she realized.

"How's that possible?" She licked her lips and tasted the salt of her sweat. "I thought all of the royal family was dead after the war except for Van…I mean, King Van."

Aldric looked mournfully at Ruhm. "Must you bring that up? Really, it's distant, very, very distant, cousin."

Ignoring Aldric, Ruhm responded to Hitomi, "Few generations back, the Fanel family split. Aldric's ancestor gave up the throne and changed his name to Arbane."

"Arbane?" Hitomi's brow furrowed.

"It's a rather potent grape used in vino," Aldric explained. He plucked the soiled scarf out of Hitomi's hands and mopped it across the blade of his sword. "The story goes that my many times grandfather had a love of the drink. He wasn't going to be king, so it only made sense that he help spread the joy of intoxication across the land."

"Oh, he was a wine…um, vino merchant?"

Aldric resheathed his cleaner sword. "A guard. My family protects vino merchants crossing between Fanelia and Asturia. They like having us around when robbers show up wanting to get drunk and take their money."

"When did you turn modest?" Ruhm raised his heavy brow skeptically. "Couldn't possibly have anything to do with the Fanel swordsmanship you lot kept up."

"Not at all," Aldric agreed. He pinched the filthy scarf between his fingers and wrinkled his nose distastefully at it. "What about you, dear lady? And please, no more tales of imaginary playmates. Ruhm promises the real you is so much more interesting."

Avoiding the question, Hitomi took off the backpack and crouched down on her knees beside the dead Demons. Her eyes lingered on the shriveled, dismembered head. A shapeless lump of metal protruded from its eye socket. It was the melted remains of Mamoru's pocketknife. While studying its odd condition, she digested the new information about Aldric, the fact that he had saved her life, and the Wolves' confidence in him. Just like earlier, her intuition told her she could trust him.

"I'm Hitomi Kanzaki from the Mystic Moon," she softly answered.

There was silence and then Aldric let out a harsh laugh. "Ha! I've heard that before. You're not the first wench to show up at the castle claiming to be the illustrious Seeress."

"It's true. I've come back to help Van."

"I was one of the first to meet the young miss from the Mystic Moon." Ruhm tapped his nose with a short-clawed finger. "No matter how her looks change, I'll always remember her scent. This little lady is the real Seeress."

"Of all the stories I've heard today, I prefer the one about your peeing husband." Aldric discarded the scarf on top of the creatures. By now, they had degraded to mummies, merely ancient husks of skins.

 _They simply waste away after death, like when an energist is taken out of a dragon_ , Hitomi surmised.

Shutting her emerald eyes, she studied the Demon's carcasses psychically. Sparkling, limpid Power streamed out of the Demons' wounds. It floated up into the air like a gravity defying liquid and dissolved into the network of Gaea's own energy. As the Power left their shells, the Demons deflated like balloons losing their helium. Soon, they decomposed to disfigured, onyx skeletons. Their bones emitted loud pops and then fizzled into nonexistence, leaving behind only bloodstains on the grass and a stench of rot.

Hitomi rose up, her jaw set. "Van's sick, isn't he? He fainted recently on the castle roof. Merle and an old man were with him. Right? I'm not sure when that was in your timeline, but I had a vision of it three days ago."

"That's _King_ Van to you. How're you privy to such information?" Aldric demanded, all humor gone from his face. His hand fisted around the hilt of his sword. A jade dragon curved up into its elaborate pommel. "That was a week ago. No one outside of those closest to His Highness knows about it."

Ruhm growled low in his throat. "That should've included me. Why didn't you send a message?"

"Sorry, old friend. The King's Voice wanted to keep the matter as quiet as possible. I meant to warn you of the Demons in your area and tell you about the Dragon King myself."

"How is Van?" Hitomi's apprehensively asked. Her fingers curled into fists.

"Yes. How's the king?" Ruhm echoed, moving to Hitomi's side. He flexed his arms again and eyeballed Aldric's sword meaningfully.

Aldric grudgingly took his hand off of the hilt. "I don't know. As I said, I've been traveling. When I left, he wasn't good."

"Van's dying, isn't he?" Hitomi's eyes filled with helpless tears. She fought them back, her cheeks flushing with emotion.

"Shut your mouth! I don't want to hear your false prophecies!" hissed Aldric. Anger twisted his handsome features. The yerkle jerked its head and neighed anxiously at his outburst. The broadsword Wolf shushed it and pulled the beast away from its rider.

Ruhm rested a meaty palm on Hitomi's shoulder. "I told you, Aldric. She's the Seeress. "

"I don't believe it!" Aldric sliced a hand through the air.

"I can prove it. I'll do a reading. I'll tell you your fortune." Hitomi hugged her arms around herself. "In exchange, take me to Van."

"How absurd-"

The middle-aged Wolf reappeared next to Hitomi and Aldric like a ghost. He interrupted their conversation with the same earlier quiet. Tail wagging, he took a metal container out of a pouch at his waist and unscrewed it. Inside of it was a greasy, green-tinted salve. It smelled similar to a cucumber, a kind of clean, rejuvenating scent. He gently took Hitomi's left forearm, dipped two fingers into the salve, and lathered it on the scratches. When he turned over her hand, he tutted at the partially healed state of her palm and applied more of the medicine there. Hitomi's eyebrows rose in amazement. The cool salve soothed some of the pain and coated the scratches like a second skin as it dried.

She smiled wearily at the Wolf. "Thank you. It feels better."

Nodding, the Wolf focused on Aldric and the wound across his cheek. The general protested, but the Beastman ignored him. He doled out a plump dollop of the salve and smeared it across Aldric's face. The general rolled his eyes, his expression between impatience and grudging acceptance. The third Wolf recapped the salve and tucked it away once more. He thumped his chest with a fisted paw and pointed at the Main Road.

"Roldo's right. You're both hurt. Better we take this talk to Arzas where you can get treated," Ruhm said.

Calmer now, Aldric grumbled to Roldo, "For not being able to talk, you're quite bossy."

The Wolf, Roldo, made a rude gesture at Aldric.

"Well, it would certainly be more comfortable in Arzas. I suppose I can disprove this imposter anywhere." Aldric flippantly indicated Hitomi with a shooing motion.

Ruhm grinned down at Hitomi. "You can show him a thing or two at the village. There's someone I want you to meet as well, little lady. Ready to go?"

"Yes, please," she murmured.

Ruhm lifted Hitomi's backpack into one of his impressive arms. He took the lead with Roldo and the broadsword Wolf, guiding the yerkle, taking up stations behind him. Hitomi and the resigned Aldric trailed after them in a mutual silence.

"""""""

Merle's sinuous tail flayed back and forth as she climbed the stairs leading to the king's private suite. Hot water sloshed over the lip of the cream pitcher she carried and trickled into its accompanying bowl. The two ceramic pieces clinked against each other as they shifted with her steps. Droplets of water spangled the bodice of her gown like pinpricks. She ascended the spiral stairs in careful strides, her sandals thunking against the stone.

At the top, the path split into two corridors; Merle took the right one. It led her past paned glass windows, several rearing dragon tapestries, and dense wood doors. At the end of the corridor loomed one particularly intimidating door, larger and more robustly built than the others. Stationed in front of it were three armored guards with lances and swords. They currently blocked the door, alongside the unyielding form of Sir Trigornia, from an unexpected visitor. Merle halted a few meters away, listening intently to the exchange between Trigornia and the would-be guest.

"Honestly, I don't understand why you won't allow me to see His Highness." The woman's voice was syrupy and low, like the music of an oboe. Her back was to Merle, the squared shoulders and proud angle of the head betraying her highborn station.

"Please forgive me, Princess Keterina." Trigornia issued an elegant bow in apology. "It is the wish of the Dragon King. He has quite the cold and doesn't wish to pass it onto visitors."

"Yes, yes. I've heard of what ails King Van." Princess Keterina sighed and waved a lace gloved hand at a boy-servant behind her. The youth bent low and held out the shiny tray he carried before Trigornia. "I had the kitchen specially make this dish. In my country, when one needs strength to recover from an illness, they eat sea turtle soup."

One of Trigornia's bushy, steel-gray eyebrows rose up in a comical fashion. "Sea turtles, while I'm sure plentiful in Daedalus, are not so easy to come by in Fanelia."

"Precisely, Sir Trigornia! My servants went to fivestalls in the market before finding a suitable specimen. Then I had to oversee your staff in the correct preparation of this meal for two hours."

"Indeed, Princess, you truly labored over the meal."

"It would be a waste of my efforts if King Van doesn't at least partake of a few spoonfuls." Princess Keterina reached into one of her gown's liberally ruffled sleeves and produced a folded fan. She opened it with a snap, took the silver lid off of a steaming bowl, and fanned the soup's aroma at Trigornia. "Isn't it appetizing?"

Trigornia coughed into his fist, his hand strategically over his nose. "It is….mouthwatering."

Merle felt just the tiniest bit of sympathy for Trigornia. Even from afar, she smelled the overly spicy scent of the Princess Keterina's sea turtle soup. It was enough to make her own nose itch.

"Wonderful! Now that you comprehend the situation, simply let me deliver this delectable meal to His Highness." Princess Keterina replaced the lid and closed her fan with a flick of her wrist.

"I'm afraid I cannot, Princess. The Dragon King has commanded me to do otherwise." Trigornia straightened the hem of his starched jacket with its curlicues of gold thread.

The princess stood a moment in incredulity, and then she purred in a chilled voice, "If this were my country, we would never treat a guest, especially one trying to help, so offensively."

"Again, my apologies, Princess. I intend no rudeness, although it may be perceived as such when one considers the differences in decorum between Fanelia and Daedalus. I will relay your kind wishes to His Highness."

Princess Keterina's back stiffened. "I see. Very well then. Please do, Sir Trigornia."

"Good day, Princess."

"Yes, good day."

The noblewoman's hands clenched into her dress's layers of lavender skirts. She spun on her heel, the lavish gown swishing, and glided back towards Merle. The red cheeked boy-servant scuttled after her. Trigornia bowed once more to her rear, signaled the guards and nodded at Merle, and readmitted himself into the royal chambers. As Princess Keterina approached, Merle flattened herself against the wall and curtsied as well as she could with the pitcher and basin.

The princess didn't pass by the Catgirl as she had anticipated. Instead, Princess Keterina stopped suddenly by Merle, her plump, ruby lips downturned and voluminously lashed eyes narrowed. Hers was a classic beauty, the kind portrayed in Asturian oil paintings or life-like busts of goddesses. Tall and willowy, the princess commanded attention and admiration, as did her expensive, stylish wardrobe. Merle eyeballed the perfect, oval pearls sewn into the bodice of the princess's gown. She was envious of more than just the decorations on the noblewoman's busty chest.

"What a horrid man!" At first, Merle wasn't sure who Princess Keterina spoke to, the boy-servant or herself. Then her eyes, the color of a cloudy winter morning, slanted towards Merle. "How in all of Gaea do you stand him?"

Merle's cheeks flamed beneath the bronze fur of her heart-shaped face. She wasn't used to Lord Van's potential marriage partners talking to her. "Oh, well, not easily, Princess."

"I see why!" she huffed in agreement, drumming her fan against the palm of her hand. "Is it so wrong to want to help His Majesty?"

"Ah…not at all, Princess."

Princess Keterina gave Merle a smile. "Of all the people attending the Dragon King, I think you are the only one with any wits."

"Oh, er, thank you, Princess Keterina." Merle touched her chin to her chest, hoping to camouflage her flustered blush. This was certainly the most awkward conversation she had ever been in.

"Might I ask a favor, Lady Merle?"

"Of course, Princess."

"Please, won't you take this soup to King Van? I worry those silly generals and councilmen of his aren't feeding him properly." She beckoned once more with her fan, and the boy-servant slithered over to the Catgirl with the tray outstretched.

Taken aback by the princess's swift actions, Merle could only nod her assent. She supported the pitcher and basin in one arm and accepted the tray of food in the other. The boy-servant sighed audibly in relief and returned to his place behind the princess. Apparently, he was happy to be away from the overwhelming odor of the soup, too. Merle's own nose prickled at the close proximity of the peppery smell. She fought the urge to sneeze, her pink nostrils flaring. Her eyes watered in irritation, and she blinked several times in a lame attempt to hide their reaction.

"I, ah, will make sure that Lord Van has some, Princess," Merle assured the noblewoman and cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Lady Merle. I owe you a debt of gratitude." With a coquettish salute of her fan, Princess Keterina sashayed by Merle in a strongly perfumed, rustling mass of silks. Her boy-servant doggedly chased after her.

Once the footsteps of the princess and her attendant faded, Merle exhaled and stared out one of the tall, vertical windows nearby. It faced the west, which was bleeding colors across the sky, and framed the view in a beveled edge. The urge to leave the castle and the pomp of its privileged nobles overwhelmed Merle for a moment. Somewhere beyond the Wall of the Capital was a place free of curtsies, social protocols, and passive aggressive princesses.

 _I can't leave Lord Van_ , she admitted to herself, loyalty and resignation tearing at her heart. _Not now. Not with him like this._

Another potent waft of the soup tickled her nose, and she let out a sneeze. The three guards at Lord Van's door suppressed smiles, one even covering his mouth with a hand. Annoyed, Merle stomped to the door, waited for them to unlatch it, and slid sideways through the doorframe. She entered into a sitting room, a spacious chamber of plush, velvet chairs, a duvet, and a single low table. Two sunlamps, new technology imported from Zaibach, hung from the ceiling like great jewels. They emitted a bright, unremitting illumination so different from that of oil lamps or candles. Merle struggled still to adjust to the queerness of it.

Lounging on the duvet was a mountain of a man, Torg Fireeater, the General of the Tusk division of Lord Van's army. He splayed casually across the duvet, which was too little to accommodate his bulk. His brown-booted feet jutted over the upholstered arm of the duvet, crossed at the ankles. He wore durable, mud-colored clothing: breeches, tunic, jerkin, and an oiled bandolier across the rock of his chest. Attached to the bandolier was Torg's collection of blacksmith and guymelf tools. At his hip was a smaller, wicked throwing axe. He had helped himself to an apple from the growing collection of items on the table, presents to Lord Van from well-wishers.

"More food, aye?" he guessed, his sky-blue eyes keen on Merle's tray. He bit enthusiastically into the green skin of the apple. It surrendered with a crunch, some of its juice dribbling into the havoc of Torg's crimson, braided beard.

"More food, you greedy pig," she grouched back.

Torg gave her a broad, mirthful grin between bites. "Put yer claws away, kitten."

"All that belongs to Lord Van." Merle's gaze pointedly rested on the half-eaten, beribboned box of imported Asturian chocolates and the woven basket of apples. Scattered amongst the food were leather-bound volumes of Egzardian poetry, a Cesarian game with ivory and amber pieces, bottled herbal concoctions, and other edible and nonedible gifts. The pile of ignored goods had doubled since yesterday.

"Aye, it does. I'm just helpin' the King with some of this before it spoils."

"What's your position again?"

"Mm. General." Torg munched into the last of the apple and tossed the core onto the table top. It bounced twice and ended up near his huge battle axe. The double blades curved audaciously back in a metal mimicry of their owner's expression.

"Maybe you should eat less and guard more."

Torg cracked his burly knuckles. "There's no one t'bash about now. S'rather borin'. I snack to pass the time, don't ye think?"

"I don't know why Lord Van chose you as a general," Merle griped. She deposited the tray of soup onto the table beside him and resituated the pitcher and basin in her slim arms.

"Because I'm handy with Melfs an' the likes." Torg sat up more properly. He lifted up the silver lid and sniffed the air over the soup

"Don't you dare eat all of that. If Lord Van's up, he'll need a meal."

"Aye, the King's awake."

Merle gasped and almost dropped the pitcher. Lord Van had been unconscious for six days since his collapse. Her heart beat excitedly with hope. She wetted her lips and tried to mask her joy. "Oh, is he? Good. Has he eaten anything? Where's Trigornia?"

"Old nursemaid Trigornia's in with the doctor pokin' at the King t'make sure he's alive." Torg pulled a disgusted face and set the lid back down over the soup. "Hasn't eaten, but I wouldn't give him _this_. Likely turn him into the ghost everyone's afraid of."

"I thought you'd like sea turtle soup. Your former countrywoman, Princess Keterina, insists it's a traditional Daedalus dish."

Torg ran a hand through his unruly, red hair. "S'horse shit. Somethin' for only crown wearers. People like ye an' me wouldn't ever see the likes of it. Can't say I mind that."

Merle nodded. "For once, I agree with you."

Just then, a second door leading to the royal bedroom creaked open. Trigornia and a haggard looking physician emerged into the sitting room. They conversed in muffled voices, the doctor grimacing and Trigornia wringing the cravat around his neck. Sensing trouble, Merle approached them cautiously, holding the pitcher before her like a peace offering.

Trigornia squinted at her. "Ah, Lady Merle. Did you fetch the water?"

"Yes. I thought to wipe Lord Van down, unless he's-"

"His Highness has regained consciousness, and he's asking for you. Be warned, though. He's very weak. Doctor Varys doesn't want him to get…overly excited. His condition is still…unknown."

Merle chewed on her bottom lip with her fanged front teeth. She didn't like the sound of that news. If Fanelia's best physician couldn't diagnose Lord Van's illness, then who could?

She bowed her way by the two men, who had resumed their mysterious conversation, and padded into the stillness of the royal bedroom. The atmosphere in the room was grim and somber. On Trigornia's order, the thick, damask drapes remained drawn across the windows, blocking out the world. In place of sunlight, the ceiling sunlamps burned, although they, too, appeared dim and distant. She noticed someone had brought a mobile sunlamp, which resembled an oil lamp, and set it on the mahogany nightstand near Lord Van's bed. Like all the room's furniture, the bed was carved of the same inky wood, heavy, masculine, and commanding. Reclining across it, beneath fresh linens and a mayhem of blankets, was Lord Van.

The Catgirl caught her breath. He truly was awake, propped up on a heap of goose feather and embroidered pillows. His crown of raven-wing hair retained its stubborn, disheveled appearance. He was dressed in a silken nightshirt that pooled beneath the cocoon of the bedcovers. It was unlaced at his throat and drooped sadly off his shoulders. His eyes were closed, but the whisper of Merle's movements disturbed his rest. The fans of his eyelashes lifted, freeing his garnet eyes. He extended a quivering hand to her, his lips turning up.

"Merle." His voice was barely audible and dry as autumn leaves.

That one word, her name, summoned Merle to him. She rushed to Lord Van's bedside, dumping the pitcher and basin next to the portable sunlamp on the nightstand. She knelt by the bed, both her hands cupping his much cooler one. He had lost weight again. He resembled a small, sickly child in the gargantuan bed. His cheeks were so hollow that the Catgirl worried his teeth might poke through. The plum rings beneath his eyes marked him with seemingly permanent bruises. He had declined so fast, so unexpectedly. Would he wither away to nothing?

"Oh, Lord Van!" she cried and kissed the top of his hand. "I'm so glad you're awake. I was so scared. So very, very scared."

"I'm…sorry."

Merle yearned to throw herself into the king's arms, but she refrained from doing so. "How do you feel?"

Between labored breaths, he whispered, "Like a dragon…sat on me."

"That's a terrible joke, Lord Van." Merle's eyes teared up.

"Never was…funny."

She giggled a little. "Broody, yes. Funny, no."

"There. You…smiled."

"Do you want a bath? Some water or food? There's apples, chocolates, and even soup. Or I can ask the kitchen to make you something."

"No. Nothing."

"You need to eat."

"Just stay…awhile."

"Tell me how to help you, Lord Van," she begged. Two fat tears leaked out of her sincere, midnight blue eyes.

Lord Van grimaced and squeezed her paws. "Have to tell you…what the doctor-"

"I don't want to hear it!" she denied, a sob escaping from her.

"Merle, please."

She knew what he was about to say, but that didn't make it any less painful to hear. Some child-like part of her thought that if no one said it aloud, the worst couldn't happen. Lord Van, ever brave and gentle, sat in acceptance before her and asked her to do the same. She cried in earnest now, big globules dripping down her cheeks and onto their joined hands.

"Merle."

The Catgirl clutched at Lord Van, her only tether to reality. Her claws extended in stress, just nicking the king's skin. Neither of them paid attention to it.

"I'm dying."

"No, no." It was her litany against the truth. "It's a lie. You can't die. You're too young!"

He somehow found the strength to shake her hands. "May not want to…hear, but you…you have to."

She swallowed around her tears and bobbed her head, trying to focus only on his voice and not her aching chest.

"The doctor…doesn't know…what's wrong."

"Yes, Trigornia mentioned that." Her whiskers wilted. "You don't think it's Plague, do you?"

"Worry it's…something else."

Merle sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress.

"Do you remember what…Folken said about…glaar leaves?" Lord Van dug his fingers into her palms.

"Yes."

"And what…they look like?"

A wave of comprehension swept over Merle, bringing with it a sense of clarity and purpose. "They'll be hard to find this time of the year."

"But will…you try?"

"I'll do anything for you, Lord Van."

"""""""

The Wolves possessed uncanny night vision, but as a courtesy to their guests, they lit a torch. The group traversed the Main Road by the fire's flickering light for a time. Eventually, the Wolves veered off of the road into the forest and onto a well-maintained path. Once, they paused and Ruhm disappeared into the night. Shortly after, Hitomi heard a long, undulating howl. It was followed by an answering cry not far off. Ruhm returned, whistling to himself.

The Wolves set a pace that proved challenging for the fatigued general, yerkle, and Mystic Moonling to match. When the group at last emerged into the village's center, the travelers were a perspiring, drained mess. The yerkle hung its head. Hitomi dragged the backpack behind her. Even the talkative Aldric was as mute as Roldo. Only the Wolves remained energetic and in high spirits.

A host of Wolves, composed of varying ages and colorations, hailed their leader and pack mates and welcomed their companions. They talked animatedly and brandished yellow flamed torches. Some cheered and, yes, _howled_. The press of bodies surging towards Ruhm separated Hitomi from Aldric and the yerkle. In the sea of fur, a podgy, elderly Wolfess and her two granddaughters encircled Hitomi and swept her away like a flood. She protested weakly and glanced over her shoulder at Ruhm, but he just smirked innocently and resumed chattering with his pack.

To the elderly Wolf, Hitomi asked, "W-Where're you taking me?"

"To bathe, lass." The Wolfess's face broke into a near toothless grin. Her web of wrinkles multiplied. "Unless Demon's a new perfume, eh?"

"N-No. A bath would be lovely."

The lady Wolves ushered Hitomi into a round bungalow. Once inside, the Wolfess's spritely granddaughters whisked the backpack away and stripped Hitomi of her soiled clothes in practiced, efficient movements. She shrieked, covering her breasts and nether region with her hands. They steered her to a wooden tub and pushed her down into it. Off balance, Hitomi splashed into lukewarm water, stunned and gawking. She no sooner recovered her wits when a bucket of sudsy water was poured over her head.

Sopping wet and nude, Hitomi sunk as far down into the tub as she could while keeping her nose above the waterline. The girl Wolves laughed gaily as they left the bungalow. Hitomi had the sense she was some kind of a joke to them. Their grandmother rolled her dirty clothes into a ball and paused at the door.

"W-Where're you taking those?" Hitomi squeaked.

"These rags? They're ruined, lass. Nothin' to be done but to burn 'em."

"Oh."

The crone inquired, "Will ya be needin' a dress for the feast?"

"What feast?"

"Why, tonight's, lass. To celebrate killin' the Demons and welcomin' our guests." The grandmother Wolf bark-laughed at Hitomi's confused face. "Pack leader Ruhm called ahead. We've been expectin' you lot. There's a fine amount of food."

"I-I see." Hitomi contemplated her declining number of clothes. "Could you bring me a dress, please?"

The Wolfess grunted in approval. "I'll fetch a pretty one while ya bathe."

"Thank you."

The Wolf exited, leaving Hitomi alone in the warm water. On the side of the tub, she discovered a bucket with a bar of handmade soap, a hairbrush, the same salve as Roldo's, and an abrasive looking cloth for drying. Sighing, she leaned back against the tub and allowed her lashes to drift down over her eyes. Feast or not, it all could wait a bit.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

Yay for my fastest update _**ever**_! This was quite the eventful chapter, and it was a tad more challenging to write. We got to see some old faces and meet some new ones. We know a wee bit more about the Demons, although there's much more to reveal. At last, our two timelines have overlapped, and Van has woken up! (Poor man sure seems to be suffering, doesn't he? *pats his head*)

And, we can't forget Ruhm! I always thought the guy should have had more air time than the series gave him; he seemed like an intriguing character. I'm sorry for all the original characters. I promise, they aren't here to take over but merely to support the old ones. (Although I admit I have a soft spot for the generals. *blush blush*)

Next up: our heroine goes to the Capital!


	8. Chapter 8

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Eight"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: I'm sorry that I haven't been able to contact everyone individually who posted a review. Even though I want to, I realize it may not be possible to message all of you wonderful readers. (Please forgive me!) So, for this chapter, I wish to thank Tallowlyplum80, Redi Kurumi, TheWonderfulShoe, witchfingers, and Mageblood for their recent reviews. Also, I want to express my gratitude to everyone who has continued to follow along with "Soulmates" despite its weird updating schedule. I feel very fortunate to have been added to several people's favorites lists as well. Thank you all very much! *bows*

To Mystical-Grace, thank you, as always, for your honest feedback and encouragement. I also want to "shout out" to Banryuu who continues to inspire me with her amazing writing drive and work ethic.

Edited 06/12/2017

"""""""

Hitomi dozed for a while in the cooling tub of water. She wasn't sure for how long, but the grandmother Wolf bringing the dress roused her from her nap. Once the Wolfess left again, she scrubbed herself clean of blood and grime. She lathered her hair and body with the sweet, herbal soap and dried off with the coarse towel. She rehashed the day's events as she pulled on the last of her Earth undergarments and fiddled with the dress.

Initially, she thought that the pillar of light had mistakenly dropped her in the middle of nowhere, but now she suspected otherwise. It was surely no coincidence that she was the traveling companion of a general of Fanelia or that they had bumped into Ruhm and his Wolves. Some force was pulling them all together like marionettes on unseen strings. It reminded her of Dornkirk's manipulation of destiny or how the Atlanteans had harnessed the power of human will. She wasn't sure what to call this force which was so much like fate, but she acknowledged that it was at least operating in her favor.

 _I just hope it allows me to reach Van in time,_ she thought and finished knotting a wide, pink sash around her waist. The hem of the boxy dress hovered just above her ankles. Its fabric was cream-colored and cottony with bell-like sleeves that ended at her elbows. The square collar of the dress dipped modestly above her breasts and was decorated by an alternating pattern of cherry and watermelon-colored triangles. Even with the sash in place, the dress hung loosely off of Hitomi's frame, hiding the curves of her figure. It was in the same fashion as the garments of the Wolfess and her granddaughters.

She searched through her backpack and found the hairbrush she had packed away. Her hair was damp, but she could sweep the bristles through it to straighten out the tangles. Once done, she fluffed the layered ends of her shoulder-length hair and patted the stubborn antenna on her head. Her fingers grazed the emerald teardrops dangling from her ears. Pausing, she fondled the earrings wistfully between her fingers, wondering how her family and friends were. A tapping on the bungalow door interrupted Hitomi's thoughts. She called for whoever was outside to come in. The door swung inward and Ruhm entered accompanied by a stranger.

"Feeling better, little lady?" Ruhm grinned down at Hitomi, his head almost touching the bungalow's ceiling.

Her mouth quirked in response. "Yes, thank you. Is it time for the feast?"

"Before we sup," Ruhm cast a sidelong look at the person beside him, "I thought you might want your wounds tended."

"Oh, I'm okay. I don't want to cause any trouble."

"No trouble. Dane here'll fix you up."

Hitomi studied the short man beside the Wolf. He was almost the same height as her, with a reedy built and elegant, thin fingers. Strawberry-blond curls fell across the nape of his neck and over his high forehead. He appeared to be in his late twenties. His face was rectangular with a beakish nose and full lips. A smattering of freckles rained across his cheeks, and he sported a pair of antiquated, wire glasses. His tawny eyes stared steadily back her, measuring her as much as she was him.

Apparently seeing something good, Dane smiled. When he spoke, his voice was a melodious tenor. "Those welts look pretty nasty."

She turned over her forearms, revealing the puffy scratches from the Demon's claws earlier. "Maybe I could use a bit of doctoring."

"Good girl." Dane offered her his hand. "I'm Dane Rheagan. Nice to meet you."

"You as well." Hitomi reflexively accepted his handshake.

Something like static electricity fizzed between the two's clasped hands. It nipped at their fingers, buzzed up their wrists, and jostled their arms. Hitomi gasped, yanked her hand back, and hopped away from the man. They faced each other like two cats with fur on end. At last, Dane shook his head and wiped his palm on the leg of his trousers. He gawked at his own hand as if it had done something offensive. Hitomi's ears rang, and she saw the translucent image of a winged being gliding over Dane.

Entranced, she stepped forward and sought the underside of his shirt's collar. Still reeling from their brief contact, Dane neither spoke nor moved away. _There_. Her fingers frisked across a chain of fey gold. She fished the chain out from under Dane's shirt until it dropped onto the man's chest. Suspended from it was a pendant, pointed at the top and bottom and capped by more gold. The stone of the necklace was a perfect oval. It shimmered a luminous, shamrock green, as if it were the heart of a forest.

Hitomi knew this pendant. The only difference between Grandma Yuri's and it was the color of the jewels. Otherwise, they were sisters.

She whispered, "You're from the Mystic Moon."

"She caught on faster than even I thought." Ruhm whistled. "Told you she'd know."

Dane gulped noticeably, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Oh, dear."

"Where'd you get this?" Hitomi demanded, tugging on the pendant's chain for emphasis. "They were scattered, lost. There weren't supposed to be anymore."

"Your name's Hitomi, right? I've heard about you and what you did during the Great Gaean War." Gently, Dane untangled her fingers from the chain and put some distance between them. "You used to have a Key, right?"

She frowned. "A Key?"

"A pendant. The Atlanteans called them Keys."

"I did once. Not anymore. Do you realize what they are?" Hitomi almost hissed out the last sentence. "They're _dangerous_."

Dane and Ruhm exchanged a meaningful glance. The Wolfman nodded his head. Dane took Hitomi's left hand and raised her partially scabbed palm up to eye level. The same shock passed between them when they touched, but this time it was milder, bearable. Then a current of tepid energy lapped across her palm and spread throughout her form in buttery waves. With her third eye, she scrutinized where it began in Dane's hand and filtered into her own physique. His aura expanded and flamed reddish-gold, like sunlight through auburn leaves.

As she watched, the skin on her palm rippled. The scrape and its scab smoothed over into new, sensitive skin. As the flesh healed, it itched. The prickling sensation extended to her arms where the scratches sealed themselves and dissolved away. Even her knee knitted itself together through her dress. She hiked up her skirt to admire the unmarred epidermis there. The balmy energy also eased some of the bite of her earlier tiredness. Once Dane let go of her hand, it severed the energy link between them, leaving Hitomi restored and his pendant pulsating. His aura diminished in size and intensity, and it resumed a normal outline around his form.

"I don't know precisely what the Keys are, but I've a decent idea of what they can do," Dane said. His voice sounded a little ragged now. "You tell me, Hitomi Kanzaki. Does what I just did seem dangerous?"

Ruhm put a hand on his hip. "I've known you both a pace, and dangerous isn't a word I'd use to describe either of you."

"You controlled your energy very well. And I thank you for the…the healing." She clamped her mended left hand into the fabric of her skirt, the knuckles white. "But that doesn't change the fact that the pendants can bring great misfortune."

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with that."

Hitomi's eyes turned emerald-blue with trepidation. "The Atlanteans made the pendants, and the technology behind them is more advanced than anything on Gaea or Earth. They're like energists, amplifying the abilities of whoever wears them. With a strong will, they even help events play out in favor of that person's wishes. How long have you had the pendant, this Key?"

"In Gaea time, five years," Dane said.

Ruhm cocked his head. "You've been with my pack almost that long."

"Yes."

"You've been away from Earth for five _years_?!" Hitomi gasped in a mixture of dismay and amazement. "Why haven't you gone back? Don't you _want_ to?"

Dane rubbed the back of his neck. His ears and cheeks reddened. "I have my reasons. And before you ask more, I'll tell you the whole story later. I can feelthe disbelief coming off of you like heat waves. Look, we may have just met, but I need you to trust me even if just a little."

She surmised her fellow Mystic Moonling. Again, just as with Aldric, her feelings told her that Dane was trustworthy.

"Er, speaking of the feast, we best be goin' now." Ruhm pointed his thumb in the direction of the door. "Aldric's waiting on us there."

"Oh, right." As if on cue, Hitomi's stomach growled.

Dane and Ruhm smirked at the unladylike rumbling of her gut. She flushed and went to her backpack. After rummaging through it, she extracted all the snacks that she had brought with her from the Kanzaki home. There were marginally mushed bananas, sweet-citrus oranges, crackers, dried seaweed packets, Coca-Cola cans, potato chips, cookies, and boxes of Pocky. Reconsidering, she slithered one box of chocolate flavored Pocky back into her bag. It was her favorite, and she likely wouldn't be eating it for quite a while.

She returned with her arms full of goodies. "Since it's a feast, I'll share this food from the Mystic Moon with you."

"Hey! That's Pocky!" Dane whooped in recognition. "No way! It's a freakin' Coke!"

"""""""

Van lay limp and spent in the nest of pillows and bedcovers. He drew in a winded breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. His body felt leaden and feeble, no better than an old man's. The tips of his fingers, toes, and nose alternated between icy tingles and numbness. Despite the pile of blankets, he suffered through a profound, bitter cold. Before sponging him down and departing, Merle had fretted over how hot his brow was and how much he had perspired. Honestly, he couldn't tell. To him, everything was wintery chills and peculiar spasms of pain.

Worst was the all-consuming fatigue. It gnawed at Van's consciousness and deadened his senses to his surroundings. No measure of physical labor, sword practice, or combat had ever left him so wearied. Even now, it sought to lull him back into the oblivion that he had only just emerged from. To fight it, he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He tasted the copper of his own blood and prodded the ragged edges of the broken skin with his tongue. It helped him to stay focused, if only a little.

Van was dying. The doctor only confirmed what he already had discerned for himself. It was a truth his body told him. It screamed the warning through his heart, his blood, his limbs. What was happening to him was as much of a mystery to Van as anyone else. Doctor Varys only guessed at the illness's nature. He had whispered fearfully to Trigornia about Plague. The men had turned upon him with a desperate hollowness in their eyes. They had already accepted the inevitability of a Plague infection and his likely demise from it.

But the king of Fanelia wasn't so sure about either of those.

After the Great Gaean War, the Duchy of Freid, like Fanelia, had begun the arduous process of reconstructing its ruined temples and villages. The country's duke, Chid dal Freid, had remained in the ancient stronghold of Fortuna with his advisor, Kaja, while the capital of Godashim was resurrected from its ashes. Just a few months after rebuilding had been underway, news had traveled throughout Gaea of an unknown, fatal disease originating in Freid. The country's physicians had attempted to study and treat the illness to no avail.

Without a cure, the cases of Plague had increased and swept across the country. Freid had enlisted the aid of its neighboring kingdoms and their available surgeons, doctors, and scholars. When some of them had also caught the disease, the other countries had ceased sending valued members of their own medical communities. Still, Duke Chid and Kaja had pressed on with their research and quarantining methods. Chid had sent multiple letters and an envoy to Asturia, Basram, Egzardia, and Fanelia seeking monetary and political support in the fight against the infection.

In Fanelia, Van had received the Freidan envoy towards the end of their journey. The diplomat and his party of monks had been harried and quiet, as ones told "no" too often are. Their tones had been curt and eyes haunted by shadows, although their speech and documents had upheld the flowery vernacular of court. Having been turned away by most of their allies, including Chid's grandfather, King Ashton, the envoy had not harbored any hope of assistance in Fanelia.

Yet the expressions on the men's faces and the accounts of Plague in the message from Duke Chid had concerned Van. He had pledged financial backing and renewed friendship to Freid, but in exchange, he had requested to be privy to all that was known of the illness. As a country of few doctors, Van had worried about the possibility of Plague spreading to his own susceptible kingdom.

Shortly after the Freidan envoy's return home, Kaja's letters had started to arrive, a steady stream of communication detailing what Chid and his own band of healers had learned. For two years, only Fanelia had sided with Freid in its quest to unravel and isolate the Plague outbreaks. Then the disease had appeared in Asturia, Basram, and Cesario. As time passed, most of Gaea had reported exposure to the sickness. When at last Plague came to Fanelia, Van had already converted several remote villages to house and care for the victims. The healers had managed to find ways to soothe the worst of the Plague's symptoms. But without a cure, expiration was inevitable.

Van admitted his current condition showed similarities to certain Plague symptoms. There was the sudden weight loss, the fatigue, and waxy complexion. He even had something of the fever and painful convulsions in milder forms. In truth, he lacked the two most notorious signs of the sickness, the gray, oozing pustules and bloodshot eyes.

 _I don't blame Doctor Varys for his diagnosis_ , he thought ruefully. _But in all of Freid's letters and the literature amassed by Fanelia's doctors, I've never read of a Plague victim remaining unconscious for days. No, I'm certain that what ails me must be something else._

And he had an inkling of what that was.

At this point, the only person Van trusted within his court was Merle. Until proven otherwise, he suspected everyone around him. That was why he had asked her alone to seek out glaar leaves and bring them to him. She would not fail him.

Van leaned further back against a goose feather pillow, his neck cradled by its downiness. He slowly raised a hand, flexed his fingers, and touched the gold, fairy-link chain around his neck. His fingers trailed down its length to the ruby stone suspended from it. It seemed to burn like a red, crystalized flame against his cool palm. He was grateful that no one had removed the keepsake during his period of insentience.

A shock of lightning lanced through his body. This spasm was bad and made him cry out into the stillness of his room. Along with the pain, the abnormal numbness returned to his extremities. He ground his teeth and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Minutes later, the pain subsided and left him again as swiftly as it had come. Panting, a dribble of sweat slithered down Van's brow and off of the tip of his nose. He groaned and flexed his frozen fingers and toes. How grateful he was just to feel them once more. The bouts of pain were coming more frequently as of late and that concerned him.

He realized his hand was fisted around the Atlantis pendant. In the duskiness of the room, the stone purred and emitted a scarlet glow. It tinted his hollow cheeks pink, lit a feverish gleam in his eyes. _Hitomi always said that if you wish hard enough for something, the stars will grant it,_ Van recalled, further tightening his grip on the pendant. _Then I wish to get better. I wish to live._

"""""""

The Wolves conducted their feast in a spacious, round hall built like the bungalows they lived in. It was an impressive structure, able to accommodate the entire village and whatever guests they might have. A fire pit crackled in the center of the feasting hall. Filmy smoke from its cheery fire rose through a slim chimney and out a hole in the ceiling. Lamps and candles gilded the interior of the feasting hall in a burnished yellow and cast leaping shadows across the walls. It smelt strongly of baked goods, lamp oil, and burned wood.

The revelers shared circular tables, stubby stools, three-legged chairs, and tasseled pillows for sitting. Through the sea of people milled servers balancing sizeable trays. They passed around clay plates and bowls, metal eating utensils, and huge mugs of ale and fruit cider. After the first servers trooped a second group with trays of meat pies and baked quail, stewed vegetables, and brown-crusted breads with creamy butter. Somewhere amidst the meal, Hitomi lost track of the Earth snacks she had presented to the Wolves. They were quickly dispensed with in this crowd. Still, the feasting hall swam with food, green salads and wild mushroom soup, salted jerky and roasted pig, vino and pithy tarts. It was, as Ruhm and the grandmother Wolfess had promised, a veritable feast.

Hitomi crowded around a table with Ruhm, Dane, Aldric, and the broadsword Wolf. Through the din of jovial conversations, laughter, and merry music, she learned the broadsword Wolf's name was Grymm. He was Ruhm's second-in-command and next in line to lead the Wolf pack. During the meal, Grymm recounted the tale of "savin' Arbane's ass" to Dane, who chuckled amusedly over his third can of soda. A less entertained Aldric gnawed on a pheasant's leg and spat insults at the teasing Wolf. Meanwhile, Ruhm knocked back another mug of ale and guffawed at the exchange between his second-in-command and the general of Fanelia.

All around Hitomi was celebration and comradery. She should be at ease in this setting. Yet of all the people gathered together, only she remained pensive and fidgety. She ate the food Ruhm plucked from the trays and set on her plate in quiet, polite bites. Her mind darted back and forth between fretting over Van, mulling over recent events, and wondering how her loved ones on Earth were.

Then Ruhm's broad hand descended upon her shoulder. "Are you ready, little lady?"

"Ready?"

The Wolf put his muzzle close to her ear. "To speak to Aldric. Thought we might take this business back to your quarters."

"Oh, yes, the reading. Ruhm, I haven't done this in a while."

"How long?"

"Years," she blushed.

"Can I offer some advice?"

"Of course."

"Do your best. He's a hard head. Runs in the Fanel line, even in distant relations. If you win him over, it'll be that much faster to get you to Van. Things are different in Fanelia now than when you were here last. Even old friends have a difficult time seeing the Dragon King these days."

"Yes, I understand." She stuck her chin out stubbornly. "I'm ready."

Ruhm struck Aldric's shin under the table with his foot. The general grunted, and the drumstick he had bitten into plummeted to his plate. He cast a scathing glare at the Wolf, but Ruhm merely waggled his eyebrows tellingly and made a shooing gesture with his hand. Scowling, Aldric abandoned the scraps of his meal, got up briskly from his stool, and clomped off toward the door. With an encouraging wink from Ruhm, Hitomi and the Wolf rose as well and followed the general out of the feasting hall.

"""""""

Aldric and Hitomi faced each other on the floor of the bungalow atop pillows borrowed from the hall. The general's sword with its jade dragon hilt lay on his cross-legged lap. The mark across his proud cheek and the wound on his forearm were both closed. Apparently, Dane had healed him, too. Bathed and in fresh clothes, his skin shone amber in the lamplight. His wavy, inky mane he had tamed back into a shoulder-length horsetail. His golden owl eyes never wavered from her. Again, she was struck by his resemblance to Van. He could be an older, more cynical half-brother.

"Well? Is this the extent of your abilities?" Aldric arms were akimbo and his expression bored. "All you did was repeat what Ruhm and I told you to begin with."

Hitomi knelt with her legs tucked beneath her in proper Japanese fashion. Between Aldric and her extended the ladder of the tarot spread on top of the blue cloth. It was true; the cards echoed what she already knew about the general from Ruhm and himself. They spoke of a patriarchal line of Fanelia divided, Aldric's life as a vino guard alongside his father and brother, and his current position of power in the Fanelian court. It was generic information. She couldn't blame the general for not being impressed. She wasn't either.

"I was expecting more of a show from the infamous Seeress. Some of the better frauds in the Capital used colored smoke or glowing crystals. I must critique your acting skills and props if all you're going to do is sit and shuffle paper," Aldric scoffed.

She clenched the deck of tarot cards in her left hand. _What's wrong? Why can't the cards tell me more? Is it because I don't have the pendant?_ she fretted, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead and upper lip. _No. Even before the pendant, I was good at reading. I haven't been this vague since I was a beginner. This reading is pathetic. I'm pathetic._

Ruhm, also on a pillow, leaned against a wall with his arms folded behind his head. He observed neutrally, the stem of some sweet hay sticking out of his mouth. He said nothing, neither supporting Aldric nor her.

Hitomi shut her eyes, tuning out the bungalow and the two men. She reached for her inner calm, but all she grasped at were rattled nerves and uncertainties. No, this wasn't her. This wasn't right. She could do better. She _must_ do better. Thinking back, she recalled the time when she had to convince Allen Schezar of her abilities and how nervous she had been. Just like then, Aldric and his thorny incredulity disconcerted her.

"This is a waste of my time," Aldric griped. "I'm going to bed."

The general's complaints seemed muffled, as if Hitomi heard them from the next room over. Against the screen of her eyelids, a filament of spider's web glistened taunt as a violin string. It extended across the gap between Aldric and herself. She imagined if she plucked at it that the thread would ping. One end of the line anchored in the general's heart, but the other stopped abruptly before her.

"Give her a real chance, Arbane," Ruhm responded, a warning in his voice beneath his patience.

Hitomi recognized this kind of ethereal thread. It was a line that joined people together. The spirit of Folken Fanel had taught her about it in Zaibach during the activation of the Fate Alteration Engine. If such a thread tangled and knotted, it prevented people from communicating properly, and yet without it, no bonds could be formed.

"You can spend the night watching her play with… What're those? Cards...pictures. I'm not."

"She's the girl from the Mystic Moon."

"You're getting delusional in your old age, Ruhm."

The argument between the males receded into the background, no more important than the buzz of mosquitos. Something otherworldly swathed Hitomi in soft, invisible wings. It was a presence of scintillating moonlight and the heat of infernos, of suns. She was not afraid of it. It comforted her more than it disturbed her. Somewhere between her ear and mind, inaudible words whispered to her.

 _[Hearts must connect before they can understand each another, Hitomi Kanzaki.]_

Yes, that voice. It had warned her back in the forest when the Demon had attacked her. Who was it? What was it?

 _[You are withholding yourself from Aldric Arbane.]_

She digested the voice's observation. It was true. She was reluctant to open herself up to the general, to anyone really. That had been her way for five years. People were allowed only so close before she pulled back and raised a wall between them. Isolating herself protected her from people's expectations, scrutiny, and unkindness.

Aldric's change from jovial protector to moody skeptic had unearthed old wounds, and she had naturally fallen back into her defensive mode. But withdrawing from others in the past had also driven a wedge between Hitomi and those she loved. Perhaps, such behavior had even warded off people she might have come to care for as well.

 _[Hearts must connect.]_

Again, she studied the gossamer cable running between Aldric and herself like spun snow. With supernatural fingers, Hitomi gripped the elusive chord and pulled it closer to herself. As she did, the thread twanged and vibrated, as real as any guitar string. She hesitated over her own heart, weighing her recent resolve to return to Gaea against the habit of self-preservation. _I can't be afraid of others' negativity anymore or what they might think about me. No, I want to change,_ she reaffirmed and pushed the spikey end of the wire into her chest.

She gasped at the sword stab of agony. Was this what a cardiac arrest felt like? A haze the color of plum wine glided across the landscape of her mind. Her heart bled. No, it opened up. It flowered. The string burrowed into her breast better than a corkscrew. Its length coiled serpentinely until it wound itself around and through her heart. She felt like a musical instrument, strung and waiting. In her hands, the tarot cards twinkled green, their energy causing a friction of heat.

 _[Now, go deep within,]_ encouraged the voice. It was weaker, fading.

Hitomi's eyelashes fluttered up like butterfly wings. Her right hand raised the top card from the deck in her left and held it before Aldric. The symbol on the card faced away from her, but she didn't need to see it. Her intuition already told her what it was.

Trancelike, her lips moved, stringing words into sentences monotonously. "You are the Knight of Serpents. You are confident, brash, and mischievous. Yours is a bravery borne of duty and responsibility. When word of Zaibach's attack on the Capital reached your hometown of Dune, your father, Dom, and you rode four days to reach there. Once you came upon the ruined Capital, you collected the survivors and moved them south to several villages including your own. Once there, you two orchestrated efforts to feed, clothe, and tend your fellow Fanelians."

Aldric and Ruhm ceased their arguing. Both gawped at Hitomi. The general whitened visibly beneath her penetrating gaze.

"Ruhm, did you tell her my father's name?" Aldric inquired quietly.

"No."

"Or where I'm from?"

The Wolf shook his head.

"For months, you maintained contact with the Wolf Clan. With a trade network spread across much of Gaea, you knew that the Wolves would be among the first to hear news of Van Fanel. Fanelia's future relied upon its sovereign. If the new monarch was dead and the Fanel line ended with him, the Arbanes were the rightful inheritors of the throne. Your father would stand to be a king."

Aldric was frozen, a statue of ice. His hands fisted around the sheath of his sword. The knuckles wrung a creak from the leather of the scabbard.

Hitomi flipped over a second card and revealed a blindfolded angel bearing a pair of swords. "Judgment, a card representing someone called to weigh another's character. When the Dragon King emerged from hiding but did not come home, you questioned his worthiness. Would someone who loved Fanelia stay away when she was in need? Your father shared your reservations, and you both agreed to watch Van Fanel when, or if, he returned. This was the chosen destiny of your clan – to safeguard Fanelia and keep those deemed unfit to rule her from doing so. Generation after generation, the Arbanes kept this vigil over the Fanels, evaluating if a king helped or harmed the country. An Arbane acted against a Fanelian king twice in the lineage of your clan."

"Those're lies," denied Aldric. His hands and arms trembled. "My kin never committed treason."

The force narrating the general's story through Hitomi would not be swayed by his discomfort. It spurred her on, made her turn over a third tarot card of a hooded figure with a scythe.

"The Death card. In this case, it means mortality and the ending of an era. It can also herald a metaphysical death, as in a reinvention of self." She squinted her eyes in concentration. "Once, an Arbane murdered a Fanelian king, a tyrant who cared only for his own gains. His people starved to pay for his military campaigns, and if they refused to fight his war, he tortured and killed them. This king was murdered in the middle of a battle by an Arbane, a distant uncle of yours. It was recorded as an enemy's victory, a good cover up for an assassination. The worst betrayal to the Fanels was long ago, all the way back to the first Arbane. Your ancestor took something very, very precious and disappeared with it."

"Shut the hell up!" Aldric shouted.

The fourth card Hitomi chose was a building shattered by lightning. "The Tower. A parting of ways, anger and resentment, and the shattering of a foundation. Hmm. When I was last in Gaea, this card also represented Fanelia's Escaflowne."

"I don't care what your pictures mean! This is all slander!"

"Your many times grandfather stole an important object and the ancient text explaining it from his father, that era's king. He feared the power that the relic would unleash upon Gaea and the king's obsession with harnessing it. He faked his own death and assumed a new identity as an Arbane afterwards. He memorized the ancient text and destroyed it. He would have done the same to the item, except that no matter what he tried, it remained whole. Burning. Smashing. Freezing. Nothing worked. Eventually, the Fanels believed the item lost and forgot about it altogether. Among the Arbanes, it passed from father to son for safekeeping. Those who guarded the relic inherited the knowledge of how to wield it and an oath to never let it return to the Fanels."

Aldric was on his feet in seconds. His speed matched that of a striking snake, but his movements were those of a leaping dancer. His sword whistled from its scabbard. He brandished the blade over Hitomi as if to pierce her where she knelt. Her azure-green eyes, slightly unfocused, took in the gray arc of the sword with no fear, no remorse. He halted the swing of the blade inches from her nose.

"Impossible," he whispered. "You can't know any of this. No one outside of my clan does."

Ruhm's bulk materialized behind Aldric. "Including my pack. I thought the Arbanes and Wolves trusted one another."

"We all have secrets, even ones we keep from friends."

"Put your sword away, Aldric."

"No."

"Do it, or I'll make you."

"She's a witch. A threat. I should kill her." Aldric never lowered his sword. He maintained his pose effortlessly, tirelessly. The blade hung threateningly above Hitomi's head, a measure of silver, an indecisive punishment.

The Wolf grabbed the wrist which supported the weight of Aldric's sword and squeezed it. "She's the Seeress."

"A damned demon's more like it."

"And possibly the only person who can save the Dragon King."

A power struggle ensued between the men. Biceps bulged, eyes narrowed, and chest muscles flexed. Aldric breathed raspingly and Ruhm grunted in exertion. Gradually, the sword tip backed away from Hitomi's face as Ruhm won the contest of strength. He shoved the sword down to the general's side. The loss of circulation colored Aldric's hand purple. It quivered, obstinately trying to retain a hold on the sword's hilt. At last, the sword clattered onto the bungalow floor, the general's hand completely slack.

Ruhm barked, "Where's your head, man? I'm your friend, not your enemy!"

"Then bloody well let go!" Aldric jerked his wrist away from the Wolf.

Ruhm acquiesced and dipped to retrieve the general's blade. "How many times have we helped each other out over the years? You've saved my life, and I've saved yours. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Not if you're defending that woman. There's something wrong with her. She's not normal!"

"No, she isn't. Wouldn't expect her to be, since she's from the Mystic Moon."

"That accursed place. You…you're certain she's not lying?"

The Wolf solemnly nodded. "Stake my life on it. And yours."

"It's so hard to believe." Aldric paled further. His eyes widened as he took in Hitomi's tranquil countenance. "Is she in a trance? Why's she so still?"

"Don't know." Ruhm shrugged his brawny shoulders.

"Held at sword point and no reaction."

"Aldric, she's not going to hurt you. Hitomi is as much of a friend to me as you are," the Wolf said.

The general backtracked to his original location across from Hitomi and the cards. "She's the Seeress, and you want me to trust her."

"Yes."

"Fuck."

The general allowed Ruhm to resheath his sword and thrust him back down onto the bungalow's floor. Ruhm kindly replaced the sword in his friend's lap and returned to his position against the wall. Aldric seemed to gather himself over the course of several minutes. He jutted out his lip in a pout. Sulking, he massaged the wrist that the Wolf had grasped and wriggled his fingers.

"That hurt, you fur bag! You might've broken my wrist." He chucked the pillow he had been sitting on at Ruhm with his good hand.

"Know my own strength better than that," Ruhm snorted, though a side of his mouth tilted up. He dodged the pillow with a duck of his head. "Just wanted you to see I was serious."

Aldric frowned peevishly at Hitomi. "Fine. I admit it. Everything you said is true."

"Yes," she spoke dreamily.

"Don't reveal what my ancestor took. Neither of you. If you do, I'm duty bound by my clan to kill you."

Her eyes flicked to his sword. "As you wish."

After a moment, Aldric groaned and covered his brow with a hand. "I hate being wrong. Hate, hate, hate it. I so rarely am, you know."

"Perfect to a fault," taunted Ruhm.

"Quiet. Go scratch your fleas and leave me alone."

The power that possessed Hitomi incited her to say, "There's more."

"Oh, but of course!" Aldric propped his left elbow on his knee and rested an angular cheek on his fist irritably. "Spit it out. Might as well bare my whole soul. No sense in any privacy now."

Hitomi selected a final card. Across its surface was the orb of a planet and a woman in a streamer of silk. "The World. A conclusion of events, learning life lessons, and a fresh start. When the war ended, Van Fanel came back to his homeland. Dom and you accompanied the survivors back to the Capital. Van recognized you from his youth as distant relations he had met when King Goau lived. He welcomed you, and you offered your help in rebuilding the Capital. For months, you observed him. He toiled alongside his countrymen, as dirty and tired as they were. He ordered their homes built first before anyone was to touch the castle. He fought with foreign dignitaries for aid and never broke his oath of keeping Escaflowne asleep."

"It was a year later when Father returned to Dune. My brother sent word of needing another caravan guard, and he took that as an excuse to leave. No sense in offending a king, even a good one." Aldric caressed a hand down his sword's pommel, his thumb smoothing over the dragon's head affectionately.

"You stayed behind," Hitomi murmured, feeling like her own person again. The force of the tarot reading was finally dissipating. Her mind was hazy, as if waking up from a deep, velvety sleep. At least it was her speaking now and not acting as a mouthpiece to some psychic element.

Aldric shrugged his shoulders. "I did. I liked the king. He was a tough little shit to have survived a war, and he proved to be a competent enough ruler."

"But he still had much to learn."

"What? Do you want me to say I stayed behind to mentor the kid? Sure, I did. I had eight more years of life experience, traveling, and foreign relations than he did. I figured I might know a thing or two he didn't. And, as I said before, I love Fanelia. Even now, I'll do whatever is best for my country."

"Van and you are alike. He told me the same thing years ago." Hitomi studied the laminated surface of the World card. "How long did it take for you to become a general?"

"I was with the king for two years. It was just luck that promoted my rank. There was a certain incident with a Zaibach sympathizer, and let's say I kicked the right ass at the right time." Aldric scratched his nose to hide a small smile.

Ruhm guffawed at the last comment. "Perfect _and_ humble, Arbane!"

"Thank you for watching over Van and saving me from the Demon." She inclined her head and half-bowed to the general.

Surprised, Aldric blinked rapidly at her. Two patches of color formed in the high planes of his cheeks. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and fiddled with the wood and leather scabbard of his sword. Hitomi straightened, thankful that he had reverted back to his easygoing personality. _I prefer him telling jokes to swinging swords, especially when I'm the target,_ she admitted. _I just hope he's really convinced that I am who I say I am._

To break the awkward silence, Aldric pointed a finger at the World. "Why do you keep staring at that card?"

"Because it reveals your future, and I'm wondering if I should tell you or not."

"Go on. I'm all goosebumps from the suspense." He issued a mock shiver.

Tentatively, Hitomi explained, "The World also predicts completion and birth. Soon, the relic you guard will be returned to where it belongs. You'll try to prevent this, but it won't matter. Forces at work greater than you are behind this. When the two are made whole once more, an immense and terrible power will be born. You will be tested, and you will have to choose who to put your faith in."

"Cryptic," commented Ruhm cheerfully.

Aldric grunted. "I've sworn to keep the, as you call it, relic safe. I've never broken one of my oaths."

"It is your choice to make," Hitomi repeated.

"Ugh. You're right, old Wolf." Aldric attempted to grin, though his flame-lit eyes were troubled. "It's too damn cryptic for me."

Still kneeling, Hitomi swept all the cards from the reading into a pile and sorted them back into the deck. She sagged from overexertion. Her vision blurred as she tied the dark azure cloth around the cards. The pillar of light, the trek across Fanelia, the Demon attack, and Aldric's tarot reading had all taken so much out of her. Free from the pull of her intuition and the enigmatic voice, she was even more aware of her current physical weakness.

Seeing the telltale lavender smudges beneath Hitomi's eyes, Ruhm unwound his imposing length from his seated position. He climbed to his feet, stretched his arms over his fuzzy head, and yawned impressively. His mouth opened wide, showing off pointy canines. He stumped over to Aldric and toed him in the thigh.

"Best be getting some rest. It's an early morning for us, and the little miss isn't looking so good," the Wolf noted.

Hitomi clambered to her own bare feet. "I'm sorry. This day has been a bit much for me."

"What do you mean by 'us'?'" Aldric demanded suspiciously.

Ruhm gave a crooked grin. "Dane and I are going with you tomorrow."

"Since when?"

"Since I heard an old friend is in danger, and I know someone who can likely help him." Ruhm inserted his big paws beneath Aldric's armpits and hoisted the general up as effortlessly as lifting a child.

Aldric protested but stood. He regained his balance once Ruhm let go of him. Petulantly, he cleaned imaginary dust off of his shirt. "Who said I'm taking _her_ to the Capital?"

"You did earlier today," Hitomi doggedly reminded the general.

"That was when I thought you were just a stupid foreigner who needed a babysitter."

Ruhm growled, "I don't see a reason to not take her."

"I do."

"Do you still doubt the lady?" inquired the Wolf.

"No, I get it. She's the Seeress."

"And you believe she can help the king?"

"Possibly so."

"Then in the name of the gods, man, why not get her to Van?" Ruhm's voice was gravelly with exasperation.

The general puckered his lips. "There's the issue of Sir Trigornia, the King's Voice. He's taken over as head of the Council of Dragons while His Majesty is ill. Also, he's forbidden anyone outside of the most immediate royal circle from venturing near King Van. I told you that already. Let me put it this way. Taking you, Ruhm, to see the king would be one thing. Add in two strangers with weird powers and that's a damn near impossible feat."

"We have to try," Hitomi insisted. A constricting fist of worry clutched her heart. "Van's time is running out. He's weaker every day."

Ruhm plucked at his furry chin. "You count as one of King Van's most trusted court members. I know you can get us past guards and servants. Maybe even the other generals. Pull your rank on them."

"Yes, but the King's Voice has authority over us generals."

Hitomi squared her shoulders. "If this Trigornia is so formidable, let me deal with him."

"You?" Aldric blanched at her.

"She does have a way of getting close to Gaean royalty," agreed Ruhm approvingly. "What was it now? The princes of Fanelia, the princesses of Asturia, and the prince of Freid. Am I forgetting anyone?"

"Don't forget the Schezars, a prominent family of Asturian knights," she chirped.

Aldric looked grudgingly impressed. "I heard that the Seeress had offered counsel to some of the rulers of Gaea."

"The Dragon King being one of them," Ruhm confirmed.

"I'll talk to Trigornia. Maybe I can use my past influence somehow." Hitomi smiled wanly. "It's better than not trying at all."

The general sighed and rotated his back at the waist from side to side. "I'm too tired and sore to argue rationally anymore. I'll take you as far as I can, Hitomi. When we come up against Trigornia, you're on your own."

"Don't forget Dane and me, too," Ruhm said.

"Fine. Anyone else? Your grandmother? Your seventh cousin twice removed?"

Ruhm chuckled and strode toward the bungalow door. "G'night, Aldric, little lady. Get yourselves some shut eye."

Aldric muttered crankily but tailed the Wolf to the door. He waved over his shoulder at Hitomi, still casting barbs at Ruhm as they exited the bungalow. Alone, she crumpled onto the low cot that would serve as her bed for the night. She felt an overwhelming flood of relief and hope. Tomorrow, she would finally make it to the Capital and to Van.

"""""""

Hello, all! It's been a while since my last update. ^_^;;; Like, months! Sorry about that. I had a few life changes to deal with, including moving across the country. I tried to make up for it by writing a super, super long chapter this time around (17 pages, single spaced). I meant for us to be following Hitomi to the Capital in this chapter, but the characters weren't ready yet. They had other ideas. *cringes beneath their glares* Rather than fight with them, I just let the story have its own way. Next up, I promise, our heroine and her three companions will definitely be castle bound.

In response to a couple of comments, I originally never thought that this fiction would turn out to be so long or, as mentioned, epic. (In hindsight, I guess it rather is. Oops! ^.^) Even its first version YEARS ago was a little…um…detailed. I can see "Soulmates" has only gotten worse since then. *embarrassment* Thank you all again for staying tuned and being patient! ^_^

 **To Be Continued**


	9. Chapter 9

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Nine"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: By the end of this chapter, all of the different storylines will have converged.

Edited 6/24/2017

"""""""

Late in the night, the guards posted at the door of the royal chambers ushered Merle through. She didn't recognize their faces from earlier, but she recalled Trigornia having said that there were rotating shifts. Tail tip fidgeting, she padded past them and into the sitting room. The door thudded close ominously behind her. She bore a tray with a warm mug of milk, a second empty cup, and another pitcher of water. Her sandals were cat-quiet on both the stone floor and the plush rugs strewn across it.

Gazing out one of the tall, beveled windows was a shapely, limber woman. With her back to Merle, all the Catgirl saw was her bun of upswept dreadlocks and the obsidian-colored ensemble hugging her curves. She had replaced Torg as the sentinel outside of the entrance to Lord Van's bedchamber. When Merle's ghostly reflection appeared in the glass, the general spun gracefully to face her.

"It's an odd hour for a visit," Melusine Dinair, General of Fanelia's Claw Army, remarked crisply.

Merle regarded the other woman. Although only of average height, Melusine was taller than the Catgirl, who was more on the diminutive side. "You wanted milk from the kitchen, so I brought it up along with some water for Lord Van."

"I see. Thank you."

The general took the mug from Merle's tray and leaned back against the windowsill. Her cinnamon-colored skin contrasted with the snowy, ceramic mug. Melusine had the flawless skin of a newborn and the proud cheekbones of a queen. Dense, charcoal lashes framed her luminous brown eyes. Right now, a watchful countenance hardened her heart-shaped face. The silver hoop of a nose piercing twinkled in her left nostril. She wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a lace up vest, a close-fitting riding trousers, and knee high boots. Suspended from a belt was the tatty scabbard of a slim sword.

 _She's very beautiful, maybe even more so than Princess Keterina_ , the Catgirl observed enviously. _I wish I had half the looks of either of them. Maybe then Lord Van would have-_

Sipping from her mug, Melusine said, "You're worrying about the king."

"I'm trying not to." Merle's ears wilted. "I've never been good at hiding my emotions. And…it's Lord Van."

"Your dearest person."

"Yes."

"We're all concerned about the Dragon King," the general replied companionably. "But since you're the closest to him, I'd say that gives you even more of a right to be upset. Don't hide it. That won't do him or you any good."

Merle's lips turned up. "You're probably right. I wish I was as strong as you."

"Who says that you're not strong in your own way?"

This won a true smile from Merle. Flushing, she cast about for a different subject. "How's Lord Van?"

"He's been quiet the last hour. I checked on him not long ago." Melusine drank more of the milk. She licked away a frothy mustache from her upper lip.

"Is he any better?"

The general shook her head. "It's...not good. Sir Trigornia tried to get him to eat some food earlier, but the king vomited it back up."

"He hasn't been able to keep anything down. How's he going to build his strength up to fight whatever this is?" Merle fretted, nibbling the inside of her lip with her canines.

"The old man said something very similar."

"Has the King's Voice retired for the night?"

"Trigornia left recently. He looks as exhausted as the king. That Daedalus princess came back to visit today. I think she's wearing him out."

"Hopefully not with more turtle soup." Merle's nostrils flared from the poignant memory. Her eyes alighted on the table of multifarious get-well-presents, which now occupied the furniture's entire surface.

Melusine smirked. "No. Simple, flat gruel."

"Thank the gods!"

"I've never seen people fight as politely as Princess Keterina and Sir Trigornia. If words were swords, they'd both have mortally wounded each other by now."

Merle giggled slightly. "You're right about that."

"Well, all pleasantries aside, I'm sure you'd like to peek in on His Highness."

"Yes."

Mug in hand, Melusine resumed contemplating the night through the window. Merle tiptoed to the royal bedroom's door, lifted the metal latch, and let herself in. The room's interior was unaltered, lit by dimmed sunlamps and haunted by a morgue-like gloominess. Lord Van still slept amongst the finest cushions, blankets, and linens. As the Catgirl advanced to the baroque bed, she noted a heightened paleness in the king. Even his lips seemed blueish, and they moved in his sleep as if he were troubled by a dream.

Merle set the tray on the nightstand, collected an untouched bowl of cold gruel and spoon, and poured water from the pitcher into the cup. Tail fluffed in agitation, she surveyed Lord Van's tense body and his pained expression. Perspiration pasted wisps of his raven hair to his forehead and cheeks in curlicues. It dampened the armpits and front of his unlaced nightshirt. Whatever vision he beheld in his slumber, it was not a good one.

The Catgirl tugged the daffodil-colored bodice of her dress away from her small breasts. She dipped her fingers into the second layer of undergarments and retrieved a paper packet. Unsealing it, she dumped some of the green-gray powder into the cup, stirred it with a clawed finger, and sat on Lord Van's bed. She lightly shook the king's shoulder and called his name in a hushed, soothing tone.

"Lord Van, wake up. I'm back."

His lashes fluttered, exposing the white of his eyeballs. They rose for real seconds later and revealed Lord Van's dazed, burgundy-brown irises. His orbs traveled from Merle, to the ceiling, and around his bedroom. They paused at a shadow in the corner.

"Lord Van?" Merle caressed hair away from the king's feverish brow. "I brought the glaar leaves."

Recognition blazed in Lord Van's eyes like a dying sun's rays. "Mer…le," he slurred her name.

"I already ground the leaves into a powder. It's in this water. You've got to drink it all, Lord Van."

"Ye...s."

She wedged herself behind the king and his pillows. Grunting, she propped him up as high as she could with her arm and chest. She anchored his deadweight against her body and held the cup with the dissolved powder to his lips. Lord Van sputtered, choked. Rivulets of water dribbled out of his mouth and down his throat. He swallowed a second time and then a third. When he finished the cup, Merle eased him back onto his nest of bedding. She mopped up the excess water he had spilt on himself with the end of a blanket.

As she tucked the bedclothes around him, the king's eyelids drooped, and he subsided into slumber once more. A desolate, crystal-like tear leaked out of Merle's eyes and splashed onto Lord Van's cheek. "You have to get better," she whispered, beseeching. "You just have to."

"""""""

As Ruhm had predicted, sunrise dawned unremorsefully early. Rubbing the grit from her eyes, Hitomi abandoned the creaky cot and went about her morning routine. Someone had left her a basin of water and a towel, and she gratefully made use of them. Even a world away and still half asleep, good hygiene remained important to her. Teeth and face clean, she folded last night's dress into a square and laid it on top of the cot.

She drew out her last set of Earth clothes from the backpack, which was noticeably lighter without all the food stores. Hitomi reclaimed the previous night's undergarments, shimmied into snug jeans, and donned what had to be the oldest t-shirt she owned. Across its princess pink front sparkled an anime character with long, blond ponytails and a combination of a sailor suit and tutu. When she was in middle school, she had gone through quite the Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon phase. This glitter-dotted shirt was a remnant of that time.

 _Nothing embarrassing about meeting a king and his court in this shirt_ , she thought and giggled at the odd twist of things. _Usagi and I are both from a kind of moon. Maybe the irony is suitable._

There was a brisk tap on the bungalow door, and then the grandmother Wolfess and one of her granddaughters entered. They brought with them a bowl of steaming porridge, a cup of goat's milk, two saucers of sugar and butter, and a plate of mixed fruit. Catching a whiff of the food, Hitomi's mouth salivated and stomach gurgled. They deposited the dishes on the table, and the young Wolf excused herself. Only the elder one stayed behind.

"A good mornin' to ya, lass," greeted the crone.

Hitomi plopped down at the tiny table on a stool. "Good morning. Thank you for breakfast."

"The men folk are eatin' their own meal now. Wouldn't do for ya not to have the same." The Wolfess displayed her gums and the few teeth in them. "Pack leader Ruhm wants all ya t'meet here. Should be along soon."

"I understand. Thank you again for all your kindness."

"Enjoy ya meal, lass." The Wolfess hooked her arms behind her crooked back and shuffled out of the bungalow, whistling.

Alone, Hitomi ravaged her breakfast, leaving neither a speck of porridge nor fruit behind. Once she was done, she withdrew the compass from her bag and positioned it on the dress. Its bold, red needle pointed ever northward, its glass face unscratched, and metal back dented but shiny. She did not have much to give, but she hoped that the grandmother Wolf would accept such a humble token of appreciation. She had just shrugged on her backpack when a second rapping thundered through the bungalow.

The door squeaked open, and Ruhm poked his shaggy head through. His coffee bean eyes were merry. "Mornin'! Ready to go, little lady?"

"Yes! I'm all set!" Hitomi jogged over to Ruhm and out the bungalow door.

"""""""

The party journeyed most of the morning in a sturdy wagon. A pair of dapple gray yerkles towed the contraption weighted with sealed, wooden crates. These were draft beasts, double the size of Aldric's dun mount tied to the rear of the wagon. They possessed a mettle that kept their pace constant despite annoying bugs and a heavy load. Ruhm perched in the seat of the wagon and steered the draft yerkles with a jumble of reins. Next to him was Aldric, yawning and firing off acidic commentary. Hunkered down in the bed of the wagon, Dane and Hitomi rested on a wool blanket and admired the autumn countryside.

The wagon trundled placidly along on the large cobbles of the Main Road. Occasionally, Hitomi gripped the top of its sideboard for balance. Unbothered by the jostling, Dane studied the intermingling dusky, splay-branched conifers and flat-leafed, painted deciduous trees. He clasped a lumpy, tan satchel that Roldo had bequeathed him when they departed. He didn't seem to want to talk, so Hitomi copied his arboreal appraisal. She identified oak and maple, birch and pine, but there were many kinds of trees she didn't know.

One of the crates shifted and skidded into Hitomi's side. Bracing herself, she shoved it back with her legs. Ruhm had cooked up the crates as a cover for the group's visit. Aldric was reporting back from an assignment, but Dane, the Wolf, and Hitomi needed a reason for admittance into the city. According to Ruhm, the Wolves hadn't taken any shipments of goods to the Capital in months. Delivering this round of crates served the group's real purpose perfectly, and selling their contents gave the Wolf an excuse to dally in the city.

The lemony sun ascended to its zenith when the band stopped briefly for lunch. The day was bright and peaceful, the afternoon heat less stifling than yesterday's. They hauled the wagon off of the Main Road and camped beneath the trees' boughs. Their meal consisted of cheese and ham sandwiches between chewy bread slices and a jug of apple cider. After the meal, Ruhm and Aldric tended to the yerkles, leaving Dane and Hitomi alone.

Dane conducted a very involved, very thorough inventory of the items within his satchel, which clinked and rattled temptingly. He kept his red-gold head ducked, his curls veiling the lenses of his glasses. All morning he had avoided eye contact with the others and had only spoken when asked questions. _Something is definitely off with him_ , Hitomi reflected and drifted away from the remnants of their lunch to Dane's side.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, linking her hands behind her back.

The man from the Mystic Moon jumped. "Wah! Don't sneak up on me!"

"I didn't," Hitomi protested.

"Oh, dear. I'm a little jittery. Sorry."

"You do seem different today," she agreed.

"Haha!" he barked a fake laugh. "Do I?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something. Why're you coming to the Capital?"

"Ruhm asked me to," he replied defensively.

"Dane, I don't need to have a vision in order to see that there's more to your situation than that."

She waited for a response. Aldric's yerkle, Sonny, whinnied from a distance, and the general spoke lowly to pacify the beast. Birds tweeted conspicuously overhead in the trees. A breeze eddied through their branches, making them dip and sway. Dane adjusted the rims of his glasses but made no move to answer her.

"Considering your ability, the logical reason to accompany us would be to heal Van. Right? What I'm wondering is why."

The healer sighed. "He's a good king. I want to help him if I can. I would do that for anyone, though."

"Okay. Why does helping Van make you so nervous?"

"Ah…am I that obvious?" Dane's face blushed as brilliantly as his hair. His eyes darted to Ruhm and Aldric. "Do you think they noticed?"

"No. Just me," she replied.

Dane cleared his throat. "I am a little…um…worried."

"About what?"

"What if I can't save the king?" He lodged his gaze on her beat up sneakers. "This power I have isn't limitless. I can't bring back the dead. I can't heal someone who doesn't want to be healed. I can't cure a disease if someone's had it for a long time. And I can't…"

"Can't what? What aren't you telling me?"

Dane's solemn, amber eyes connected with Hitomi's green. "For the last few months, I've been working at a nearby village that was converted to treat and isolate Plague outbreaks in Fanelia. Hitomi, all this time, I've never once been able to save a person who had it."

"I don't understand. You just said that you can't heal anyone who's had long term exposure to an illness. So, shouldn't you expect to not be able to cure Plague?" Her eyebrows knitted together over the bridge of her nose.

"Um…time really has nothing to do with Plague. People can contract it over a relatively short period."

"I still don't get what you're hinting at."

"Plague is different from anything I've ever seen before. It's really not a normal illness at all. Oh, dear! How can I explain it? Plague isn't naturally occurring. Every time I touch someone infected with it, I can tell. Feelit. To me, Plague feels an awful lot like a Key. Manufactured. Otherworldly."

The peach fuzz hairs on the nape of Hitomi's neck and forearms rose prophetically. "You think that Plague might have something to do with the Power of Atlantis."

"Yes."

"People with Plague become Demons," she whispered.

"Not all of them. Only some. Most people simply die."

"What's that got to do with Van?"

"The symptoms you described yesterday to Ruhm from your vision resemble those of Plague. It's possible that the king is infected."

"Never!" The vehemence of her protest frightened the birds in the trees. They chirped in alarm and winged away.

"I guess that's why I'm acting strangely. I'm scared." Dane scrunched his hands into fists, his ears rosy. "If it's Plague, I won't be of much use."

Hitomi snapped, "Van doesn't have Plague!"

"You should prepare yourself if-"

"I believe in Van. He's going to live." Hitomi placed a hand on Dane's thin shoulder. "Between you and me, we'll make sure of it."

Dane murmured, "If only I could believe that."

"You must! You have an Atlantis pendant. It's attuned to your moods and beliefs. Doubt calls forth a bad future, and the pendant amplifies that wish. If you believe in a positive outcome, then the pendant influences the future in that way."

"Maybe you're right." The verdant pendant hung benignly around the healer's neck. "The Keys are dangerous."

"Van will be fine. You and I are going to help him. Try believing in that." Hitomi removed her hand from the man's shoulder.

"Okay. I'll try."

Ruhm called to them. It was time to go. The general and the Wolfman had already resumed their stations in the wagon. Dane shyly fell in step next to Hitomi. As they walked, she willed the healer's speculation about Van to be wrong.

"""""""

A behemoth barricade surrounded the Capital of Fanelia. It reigned for as far as the eye could see, ranging even to the mountains. Hitomi guessed it must ring the whole city. The wall looked to be made of two layers of stone, perhaps granite, reinforced by steel poles. Along the surface of the wall, metallic vines entwined with the rock like great arteries. As the wagon progressed closer and closer to the wall, she craned her head further and further back. Despite its soaring height, if she squinted, she could discern the glint of lookouts' armor on the wall's battlements.

"The Wall of the Capital," Aldric said, as if he were introducing a foreign dignitary.

Hitomi gulped. "It must've taken a long time to build."

"Years."

Ruhm navigated the draft yerkles to an opening in the wall, a massive arc accompanied by the raised lattice of a portcullis. Behind the interwoven metal bars, the entrance was defended by a pair of gargantuan, spiked doors. The doors, as tall as a guymelf, were open to allow traffic through. Two rotund guard towers edged this aperture like disagreeable bouncers. Hitomifelt quite minuscule and puny in scale.

A duo of mismatched guymelfs stood at attention on either side of the front gate. One flaunted a lance and the other a cutlass, but both robots sported the Fanelian crest. The wagon drawn by the yerkles rattled to the end of the line for admittance. Ahead of Hitomi's band was a sun-baked farmer with a cart of grain; a dusty handler with a chain of oxen; an overweight nobleman on a palanquin borne by burly servants; a peasant mother and her gaggle of five children and many others. The people entering the Capital certainly outnumbered those leaving its limits.

With the wagon still, Hitomi clambered up onto her knees to peer over Ruhm's shoulder at the head of the line. At the guymelfs' feet, a cluster of ten men in chainmail conducted the flow of people inside and out of the archway. They read and stamped papers, counted parcels and cart contents, and asked people questions in brash, authoritarian voices. Meanwhile, a shrew of a man, roosting on a stool at a crude desk, scribbled furiously with a quill as people trickled by. Hitomi wondered what he was writing.

Ruhm prodded Aldric in his ribcage with an elbow. "Can't you do something 'bout this? We best hurry."

"Sure, I can." The general flicked his wolfish eyes at the impatient folk in line. "That is, if you want to draw attention to us or piss off these pleasant souls."

Hitomi never heard Ruhm's retort. A tsunami of vertigo slammed savagely down on her, as much a physical barrage as a psychic one. Winded, she seized the wagon's side to keep herself upright, her knuckles aching. Fuzzy, leaden dots stippled her eyesight, and then they ate away the sunshiny day and left her in a grim setting. Inexplicably, she floated in the bedchamber from her vision during the tarot reading on Earth. It was the same ornate bed, the same crimson dragon tapestry, the same mound of bedclothes, and the same rudimentary background. Only the person in the bed, the room's sole focus, had changed; Van's condition was worse.

The king, ashen as bone, lay unconscious and dying. His lips and fingertips almost glowed blue, and the sunken hollows of his eyes and cheeks churned Hitomi's stomach. Saturated with sweat, he labored for breath, his chest heaving, throat constricting. His limbs jolted and stiffened, almost as if he were having a seizure. His hair fanned across the pillows in a desperate dishevel, and his lashes hid his eyes like scythe blades. At his side, Merle clutched his hand and moaned his name over and over. Hitomi was vaguely aware of the outline of a man behind the Catgirl bellowing for a doctor, but she paid no heed to that commotion. Her despairing emerald eyes never left the shock of Van.

Until movement attracted her to the bed's headboard.

 _No,_ she denied, nauseous and disbelieving.

If Hitomi hovered, Shadow lurked. The specter elongated, lengthening and lengthening until it was an impossible, skinny shadow. It hunched over the suffering king's bed like a malicious, sable wave about to break. Its wraithlike form eclipsed Van's own frame in the murk of the bedchamber. The carapace of Shadow's destroyed face leered down at Van, their foreheads separated by a hand's span. The squished nostrils of what should have been a nose splayed, and the snake-like jaw unhinged. Among the mummified strips of flesh that the skull retained, a maggot writhed and fed. The Demon's thick, purple tongue lolled out as far as a party streamer.

However, it was not the Fanelian king that the Demon's eyes, those sinkhole cavities, sought. No, a seemingly benign, ruby jewel on a flimsy chain hypnotized Shadow. A hand manifested from the swirl of its phantasmal aura, no more than a skeleton's wrist with eagle talons. Its bizarrely jointed fingers, the pointy, brittle nails clicking against one another, curled above the Atlantis pendant. The stone flamed, resisting the Demon. As it did, a scarlet cocoon of light encircled Van, sealing both the king and the necklace off from the shade.

Shadow growled and raked its claws across the glittering shell. Where the Demon touched it, sparks erupted from the shield and propelled Shadow backwards. Its hand smoked and smelt of burnt meat and hot tar. Shrilling in frustration, the wraith challenged the pendant's power again and again, unmindful of the char marks on its hand and forearm. Each time its attack reduced the illumination of the protective sphere around Van, chipping away at both his life and the resolve behind the pendant.

"Leave him alone!" Hitomi screamed.

Her voice resounded across the crypt of the royal bedroom. Noticing her presence above it at last, Shadow sneered up at her and hissed, just as the Demon in the forest had. Before she could react, it conjured a ball of sizzling, night-dark energy in its palm and cast it at her. The orb rammed into her astral body like a punch to the gut. It thrusted her out of the vision and back into her corporeal self. She slumped sideways, still clawing at the board. Hitomi puffed for air and willed the world to cease spinning. Her throat burned with stomach acid, and she blanched at the sour, partially digested taste of her lunch.

Nearby, Dane asked timidly, "Hitomi? Are you alright?"

"G-Go now." She fought for words through the queasiness.

"Go where, little lady?" Ruhm's confused voice rumbled overhead.

"To Van."

"Yeah, yeah. That's the idea, your ladyship," Aldric muttered.

A cool hand grazed her cheek. "Don't tell me-" Dane began.

That weird, electrical zing leapt from her cheek and into Dane's hand. She listened to him gasp, scramble across the wagon away from her, and then wretch violently in her stead. There was silence for a moment. Hitomi dragged herself up and took in her surroundings. Poor Dane lay puking over the opposite side of the wagon while Aldric offered amused advice to him. Clucking his tongue at the yerkles, Ruhm drove the wagon out of the line and away from the obstructed front gate. He furtively peeked over his shoulder at the passengers behind him.

Hitomi said more coherently, "W-We've got to go! Right now!"

"What're you talking about?" Aldric frowned, his jokester persona gone.

"Van's in danger! I saw it! If we don't hurry, he's not going to make it!"

"She just had a vision." Suppressing a gag, Dane sponged his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. "I felt it. It was…bad."

Ruhm and Aldric sat as rigidly as figures cast from iron. They swapped a disturbed glance and launched into action. The Wolf hopped down off of his seat in a single effortless bound. Gently, he put his hands beneath Hitomi's armpits and elevated her out of the wagon and onto the ground. When she teetered, he supported her until he was certain she was okay on her own. After that, Ruhm loped to the draft yerkles and began to unharness the one on the left. At the rear of the wagon, the general tested the saddle and bridle of his own buffy-colored beast.

Baffled, Hitomi demanded, "What're you doing? We need to get through the gate!"

"No, little lady." Ruhm led the unharnessed yerkle back to her. He had divested with most of the animal's leatherwork except for the headgear, blinders, and a short rein. "Wagon's too heavy and hard to maneuver with this traffic. Would only slow you down. You're gonna have to ride."

Aldric abruptly materialized beside Hitomi with his own yerkle. The gelding chomped at its bit, drool slobbering from its mouth. "Just like last time, Hitomi. You're going to ride behind me on Sonny."

"C'mere, Dane. You're taking Ironworks." Ruhm hoicked the healer's leather satchel from out of the wagon's bed.

Somewhat recovered, Dane stumbled over to the dappled yerkle. He looped the strap of the satchel across his chest and swallowed. "Ah, Ruhm, I've never ridden bareback before."

"I know."

"I mean, I've hardly ridden at all. Even with a saddle."

"Keep your legs tight on her belly. She's a good lass. She'll carry you safely," assured the Wolf.

"But she's so…big."

"Aye."

"Oh, dear."

Ruhm bent forward at the waist and cupped his hands together to give the healer a leg up. "You gotta go. The king needs you. This here's the only way."

Biting his bottom lip, Dane nodded sternly. He went to Ruhm on the draft yerkle's left, snatched a handful of her mane, and permitted the Wolf to toss him across her back. The patient Ironworks merely batted her ropy tail across a haunch. While Dane situated himself on the mare, Aldric mounted Sonny with experienced ease, his sheathed sword thumping against his thigh. He reached an arm down to Hitomi, who skirted the dancing hooves of the smaller yerkle.

The Wolf put his massive hands on her waist. "Lemme help you up, little miss."

Between Aldric and Ruhm, Hitomi wound up once more on the yerkle's uncomfortable back. This time, the process was faster and less hazardous. Once aboard, she instantly dug her legs into the Gaean horse's ribs and plastered herself to the general's back. Her arms roped around Aldric's waist, and she practiced orienting her weight with the movements of the yerkle. Without the backpack, she found it was easier to keep her balance.

"Aren't you coming?" Hitomi asked Ruhm.

"Old Gray can carry me, but he's not fast enough for this. I'm stayin' behind."

"What about keeping our cover to get through the gate?" Dane inquired, his hands full of reins and mane.

"I'd have preferred that, but it appears we don't have the time for secrecy anymore," Aldric humorlessly admitted.

"Pullin' your rank, hmm?" Ruhm deduced.

"You all win in the end."

"Or at least the Seeress does." The Wolf's mouth quirked.

"See you at the castle, you hairy dog." Aldric wheeled Sonny around in the direction of the gate.

"Gods' speed to you."

Aldric signaled to Dane, and the yerkles trotted to the front of the queue. People scowled and yelled as they advanced to the beginning of the line. The string of guards eyed them dubiously as they approached. Four of the men with spears intercepted their group and leveled their weapons at the yerkles. Aldric and Dane pulled the mounts to a halt. One of the guymelfs blocked the arch, its footsteps booming and cogs cranking.

"Get back in line!" ordered a sword-toting guard. The stripes on his breast-plate below the Fanelian insignia seemed to represent some kind of leadership. "No one enters the city without passing through inspection."

"I'm part of the Horn Army. I'm returning from an assignment outside of the Capital," Aldric clarified.

"I don't remember seeing you before."

"I'm stationed at the castle normally. Don't get out much."

The guard appraised the general's mangled uniform and the Fanelian crest on his breastplate. "Who're they?"

"Friends. They're with me."

"You can go ahead, but they can't. They have to stay to be checked through."

"I said, _they're with me_. Now let us go. We're in a hurry."

"I've got my orders. Without proper documentation and inspection, no one enters the Capital."

"I can't believe you're stupid enough to not know who I am." Aldric glowered down at the leader and his men as if they were cockroaches. The general forced the sleeve of his shirt up to show the mark on his right bicep. It was a tattoo of horned dragon's skull in black lines and shading. "You'll refer to a higher-ranking officer with more respect, captain."

"G-General Arbane!" The captain stuttered. He shrunk beneath the laser beam of Aldric's eyes. "F-Forgive me! I didn't know it was you!"

"Clearly."

"P-Please, proceed, sir! Your guests, too, o-of course!"

Aldric glared at the guards, who lowered their weapons and eyes. They backed away from the general and his companions, almost cowering. Hitomi couldn't blame them. The man had transformed from a cocky clown to a seasoned warrior in command of an army within a heartbeat. He radiated authority.

"Make way!" hollered the captain at the guymelf. "Move aside for General Arbane!"

The mountainous robot clomped back to its former station, and all the guards on the ground bowed to the general. Aldric shouted to Dane. They nudged the yerkles into a canter and raced through the archway into the Capital. Going through the gate, Hitomi gawped firsthand at the depth and breadth of the wall and all its fortifications. They were like ants skittering through a colossal Lego barrier.

They bounded out of the structure's shadow and into the bustle of the city. Clever buildings of wood and stone climbed in terraces to the foot of the Fanelian castle. The castle squatted on a rocky, tree-flecked motte like a marble wedding cake. Somehow, it had survived the nightmarish fire five years ago near intact, the Fanelians' symbol of hope and renewal. The yerkles' shod hooves clip-clopped on the street. Unlike the round cobbles of the Main Road, this one was arranged with rectangular, compactly fitted stones. The group wove through streams of carts and beasts, pedestrians with packs and baskets, humans and Beast People.

Trying to avoid the crowd, Aldric chose a side street that extended in the direction of the castle. He gestured for Dane and Ironworks to follow as they flitted down the narrow passage. The band zipped through the alley littered with mud, moldy food, and dung. It snaked into another alley and then another. The yerkles waded through puddles and pranced over potholes. After crisscrossing through seedy streets, Aldric navigated them back onto a better maintained road. It swarmed with less people here, and he encouraged the yerkles to canter once more. The change in pace caught Hitomi off guard. Despite her vicelike arms around Aldric's middle, she still wobbled dangerously.

They tore into a lively market, yerkles bawling and hooves clattering. Startled people squealed and dove out of the beasts' way, dropping their wares as they did so. A few children waved at them as they stormed by. A scruffy, yapping dog tailed them for a time. It nipped at Sonny's heels but eventually fell behind. Buildings, market stalls, and people's faces streamed past, no more than splotches of pigment and form.

Hitomi bounced up and down, up and down, ever clinging to Aldric. Her buttocks were aflame, and her stomach was in her throat. _I've ridden on Escaflowne, and I never, never got sick. So, why does this yerkle make me feel nauseous?_ she thought in disgust.

Aldric veered Sonny too close to a stack of woven baskets. The vendor flung himself behind his ramshackle stand. The yerkle's hindquarters bunched below the two passengers, and then they were airborne and over the pile of baskets. They landed with a thump that almost dislodged Hitomi. Somehow, she righted herself and remained on the yerkle. Gaping, she checked over her shoulder where they had touched down. Not one of basket had been nicked by a hoof. The agitated seller emerged from hiding and wagged his fist at their fleeing backs.

Wonderstruck, Hitomi faced forward. The indigo roofs and glossy towers of the restored White Castle drew ever closer.

""""""'

At the palace gates, the drained yerkles' tantivy ended. Aldric sprung off of Sonny and bellowed something intelligible at the guards. Quivering, Hitomi dismounted, the land roiling like a tumultuous sea beneath her.

"General Arbane!" a guard in a rubicund tunic and fancy armor cried. "Welcome back! We were expecting-"

"Not now!" Aldric snapped. "Where's Trigornia?"

"W-We heard he was with the Dragon King, sir," a second guard answered. She cautiously assumed a position behind the first. "As are Generals Dinair and Fireeater."

A third guard's hand went to his sword's hilt. "General Arbane, who're these people?"

"We're…ah…friends?" suggested Dane.

"I'm taking them to the king." A muscle in Aldric's jaw tautened.

"Sir, the King's Voice commanded that no strangers-"

"I don't give a damn what that old fart told you! We're all going to the king. _Now._ " He indicated the mounts with a hook of his thumb. "Someone take care of these beasts. They deserve a good rub down and rest."

"Y-Yes, sir," the guards agreed in almost perfect unison.

To Hitomi and Dane, Aldric said, "I've a bad feeling about all this. Can you run?"

Hitomi's heart forgot how to beat for several seconds. Finally, she bobbed her head in affirmation to the general, although her legs felt watery and weak. To get to Van, she'd crawl if she had to. Dane copied her.

With the general leading, they hastened through a nearby doorway and into the palace. They sprinted through a befuddling maze of passageways, rooms, and flights of stairs. Generous furnishings, brocade tapestries, and colorful decorations flew by without detail. Aldric's pace never lessened, although Dane lagged behind a bit with his satchel. The only sounds were the hammering of Hitomi's pulse and the trio's mutual huffing. They pelted by servants squawking in surprise, interminable doors, gem-like windows, and more well-meaning guards. To Hitomi, it all blurred together.

Trepidation coursed through her, lending her strength where she'd had none. Soon, she overtook Aldric and Dane, fleet as a doe through a forest. Intent upon finding Van, she instinctively dowsed for the king's location. In her mind, a picture of her grandmother's claret pendant swung in whichever direction she needed to go. It was so natural, so simple. Why had she ever doubted herself?

After a winding staircase and a right down a hallway of windows, she was at the royal chambers. A door more than twice her height protected the entrance along with stunned guards. The pounding of Aldric and Dane's booted feet came soon after her. The guards brandished their weapons, intent upon warding her off. The general spewed some command at them, and they stood down. She never stopped running and used her momentum to shunt aside the goliath door. Her right shoulder and arm smarted from the impact. Groaning, it cracked open.

Hitomi rushed into an anteroom where wizened, ruffled men gathered morosely. They goggled at her as she whizzed by. The mental pendant compelled her towards an adjoining room. Her sneakers squeaked on the stones, and she skipped over a balled up rug. This second door she threw wide.

Inside the bedroom from her vision, five people congregated around the huge, mahogany bed. A bear of man, almost the size of Ruhm, and a beautiful, dangerous looking woman lingered just beyond the flurry of activity at the bed. Hitomi espied the grown up Merle crying over a limp hand and the balding aristocrat named Trigornia who sadly witnessed this. Curved over the frail, prone man on the bed was a distressed, middle-aged doctor. He pushed frantically on the man's, no, _Van's_ , chest in trained repetition.

Hitomi knew what that meant. Van's heart wasn't...

Van couldn't die!

She wouldn't let him!

"Van! Hold on!" she implored.

Someone cackled, grating, psychotic laughter. The stench of rotting flesh made Hitomi woozy. Her skin prickled as if from a winter. Suspended at the head of the king's bed, just as before, was the creature she had seen beneath the streetlight. The Atlantis pendant, spent and dull, winked once, and the shield around the king evanesced. Shadow stooped at the waist over Van, summoning all the darkness in the room to it. A cyclone of blackness enveloped them. A mummified finger alighted on the jewel of the pendant.

"Get away!" Hitomi howled.

Dodging the big man's attempt at grasping her, she hurled herself across the remaining distance separating her from Van. Merle and the physician seeking to resuscitate the king were cast aside when Hitomi collided with the bed. Her hand groped and found Van's chilled one. As if sentient, the Demon's umbra reared up and smashed into her. The crash of Power almost broke her hold on Van. She tussled with the sinister mass, biting and scratching and flaying. It elevated her off the floor, dangling her like a marionette.

The umbra was gooey and gelatinous, and it adhered itself to whatever skin was in its proximity. Upon contact, her flesh numbed. The midnight stuff rained down upon her. It clogged up her nose and mouth. Suffocating, Hitomi throttled it with her free fist, the other never releasing Van. She jackknifed to break free of the paranormal assailant. Inside of her, she sensed the umbra oozing through her throat and nostrils, directing itself towards her lungs and heart.

Talons bit into her cheeks and chin and jerked her face up. Shadow's soulless eyes sucked in her azure-green ones. It repeated its morbid prophecy from Earth. "Hitomi Kanzaki, you will die."

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

Oh, my goodness! I wrote another ridiculously long installment to this story. ^_^ Aheheh! *blushing* This was a more reasonably timed update at least, and it coincided well with the Kickstarter campaign release of Escaflowne on Bluray. Yay! Tonight's blabbering will be short, as I'm a bit tired. (Has anyone else aside from me noticed churning out a chapter is a lot like giving birth? :p)

I may not have mentioned this before, but these reviews you all leave me are just…amazing. I read them and sit here going, "Wow, someone actually likes what I'm doing." It just moves me. I know some people dismiss fanfictions, but I don't. Truly, I can't. We writers, myself included, put so much of ourselves into these stories, so getting feedback just makes our days. On that note, **thank you to everyone who reviews stories on this website**. It really does matter, you know?

So, in regards to "Soulmates," thank you, every single one of you, from the new readers to the old. *gives everyone a big hug and mugs of hot chocolate*

A special "shout out" to Guest, , and MidnightReader1. I also want to mention that Banryuu has this awesome, really original story called "More than Skin Deep." It's definitely worth checking out! ;)

Oh, and here we are; Hitomi and Van have met up at last. I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts and seeing where this story will take us. Please enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Ten"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: The void mentioned in this chapter references the dark place Hitomi retrieved Van from in Episode 15 when he was spirited away into death by the former Dragonslayers.

Edited 10/13/2017

"""""""

Hitomi couldn't look away from the Demon. In the cemetery pits of its eyes, she saw its true nature - devastation. Within those holes stars imploded in on themselves, disintegrating and gorging on everything else to survive. They magnetized her and drew her nearer. She was being pulled apart, a spider's web resisting the maw of a black hole. Little by little, the gravity of Shadow's eyes dragged her soul away from her corporeal self.

She still felt her body, although her senses were dulled and mind dumbed. Far off, she gagged and choked, her chest aflame. Her lungs begged for air as she suffocated on the demonic umbra, the viscous mess blocking her nose and mouth. It tasted acrid like misery. Her heart hammered and then became sluggish, the beats irregular. Her legs hung a man's height off of the stone floor, useless in the semi-solid swirl of tainted Power. She ceased tussling with the dismal mass. The hand clenched around Van's own slackened, sliding down his wrist and palm.

 _[Have you come so far to only be defeated by a nightmare, Hitomi Kanzaki?]_ A now recognizable voice murmured through her dwindling cognizance.

The being, whatever it was, was right. If she did nothing, it would be too late. Van would never wake up, and she would soon be dead with her spirit trapped in the Demon's eyes. The struggle up until now would be worthless.

With her free hand, she clawed at the gummy substance covering her mouth. It stuck in gooey filaments to her fingers. Somehow, Hitomi clasped a soft taffy lump of the goop and wrenched it off. The strip peeled back as unwillingly as tape and revealed the minutest opening. She inhaled a breath before the gunk clogged off her oxygen once more, numbing her face in the process.

It was just a breath. It wasn't much, so she had better make the most of the time and clear-headedness it afforded her.

Hitomi mentally called out to Van through their link. Despite their near proximity, the block stayed in place. He didn't answer her telepathic message, and she couldn't sense where his soul was.

Something rosebud and metallic glinted. Drawing on all her willpower, Hitomi tore herself away from Shadow's monstrosity and gazed at the Atlantis pendant on Van's breast. It was as resplendent as a miniature, scarlet sun. No, it buzzed on the king's chest like an irate, bejeweled hornet.

 _[Even nightmares fade in the morning light,]_ the voice whispered to her.

Both Hitomi and the pendant strained toward each other across the gap separating them. The stone gonged in her mind, an old friend greeting her. It chose her as its bearer for the second time in her life. It waited eagerly for her command, pet-like. She sent it a single thought. _Light_ , she half prayed, half wished.

The jewel of the necklace hummed, as if considering, and then it reacted. The Atlantis pendant exploded. Pure, hot illumination spurted out from it like a star gone supernova. The room whited out from the incessant rush of energy. Hitomi instinctively closed her eyes against the dazzling onslaught. The afterimages of fireworks speckled the insides of her eyelids. Undaunted, her third eye tracked the fount of raw, unrestrained Power as it spread ever outward. Static electricity crackled across her skin, painless but uncomfortable.

From somewhere around her, she perceived frightened cries and the sound of feet and something fragile shattering. Unused to the pillar of light, those in the room with her panicked and groped for escape. Only Hitomi was unafraid of the outpour of starlight that went on and on. She knew very well about the lifeblood of Gaea, the Power of Atlantis.

Something screeched like a car with faulty breaks. The black goo which had invaded her body halted its quest for her heart. With her psychic vision, she observed it reverse its momentum. The goop over her nose and mouth sprang off and spewed out of the openings, fleeing the way it had come in. When no umbra remained in her, the murk hindering her limbs and supporting her in midair juddered and melted away into nothingness. Just as the voice had promised, the evil vanished.

Without the umbra, Hitomi fell and hit the floor. She landed on her side, crumpled and stunned from the impact with the stones. An insect-like buzzing droned in her ears. The back of her head and hip smarted. She hacked and wheezed, drinking in oxygen. Her ribs ached from coughing. She gave herself just a few precious seconds to recover some lucidity.

Once the world was less foggy and her own faculties more acute, she chanced to squint her eyes. Satisfied that the luminescence was gone, she rotated onto her stomach and rose precariously onto her hands and knees. Hitomi crawled in a jerky, swaying motion back to the mammoth bed. There was a stirring behind her and the scrape of boot heels on the stone. Then the light-footed Dane skipped by her to the king. By the time she hauled herself up onto the mattress, the healer had already checked for a pulse in Van's neck.

"The king is dead," he said simply, quietly.

Hitomi gulped back a plethora of emotions: despair, futility, and anger. Wordlessly, she shook her head and took Van's dry, chilled hand with her own quivering right one. The Atlantis pendant throbbed burgundy then thunderhead gray. It repeated this sequence across the planes of the king's still chest.

"We must call him back." Her left hand latched onto the palpitating lantern of the necklace's jewel. It chased some of the gloom from the room and the aches from her body.

Dane gawked at her. "W-What?! Hitomi, I can't…he's-"

"I can. I have before."

"No way!"

"While I do that, I need you to heal his body."

"But I-I…"

"You have to believe that you can. I _know_ you can." Hitomi exhaled. "Put your hands over him. You say you feel things. Tell me, Dane, does this feel like Plague?"

Reluctantly, Dane's aura flashed and trickled down into his hands. His verdant pendant glowed in a tamer version of Hitomi's own. He passed his hands, palms flat, scant centimeters over the wreckage of the king's form. "It's complicated. His affliction was made up of an element similar to Plague, but I can pick out certain differences."

"Power."

"What?"

"Gaea's essence. Atlantis's weapon. What the pendants use for energy."

"Ah, I don't understand."

"What you're feeling is a trace of Power in Plague and what hurt Van."

A bead of moisture dribbled down the dome of Dane's forehead. "Okay. So, you want me to heal a malady caused by Power with a tool that runs off of that same force?"

"Yes."

"O-Oh, dear."

A groan interrupted their conversation. Hitomi detected the squeak of leatherwork and a shuffle of cloth. The others in the chamber were rousing from the ill effects of the mysterious light. The only chance to save Van unhindered by a well-meaning court was now.

"Do it, Dane. We have no time," Hitomi said.

Emerald-blue eyes lustrous with determination, she ignored her ailments, the irresolute Dane, and everyone else in the room. Her hands squeezed the pendant and Van's fingers, a bridge between them. She shut her eyes and sealed her sight off from the real world. Everything faded like a ruined watercolor painting, colors hemorrhaging together. In her mind, she pictured the Atlantis necklace, its ruby-drop a pendulum arcing back and forth on the gold filigree chain.

Across time, space, and death, she searched for Van. Her third eye showed her the king's worn husk, the chapped lips curled back from pearl teeth, the purpled cheeks, and ringed eyes. He was so skinny, so wasted away. He had fought with all his might, both physically and mentally, against the unknown onslaught. Protruding from his chest, a brilliance of ivory cord stretched from his heart and into infinity.

Hitomi's astral figure locked hands around the warm, diaphanous filament. She rose from the bed and out of her earthly self. Staunch, she trailed the fish-wire past Dane combusting with Power, Merle scrambling to all fours, and the hodgepodge of the Fanelian court. She came up against an unseen obstruction, a kind of doorway. It warped reality, a rippling of time-space fabric, a wormhole to somewhere. It radiated cold, a cold so intense it burned as it froze. The link to Van's soul proceeded on through this threshold. She turned her back on the sun of life and entered into the winter of death, ever calling for him.

"""""""

Someone said his name.

No, the person sang it like a line of music. It was stroked from female vocal cords and pierced his darkness, a harp string of hope. The voice reminded him of his mother's when she crooned him to sleep as a child. It was the only thing in this nightmare that was good.

He _hurt_. A hundred sizzling pokers, like the ones used by maids to stir the fireplaces, scorched him. He writhed wildly in the darkness, yet he may as well have swum in mud, in oil. He moaned and thrashed his limbs against the inkiness that crushed him, making mere existence a torment. Bodiless hands sought to pin his arms and legs. They yanked him down and backward through an expansive tunnel, and then he plummeted through a void, a vacuum of nothingness. It swallowed up his yell along with any vestige of light. Scared, he fumbled for the link to the pendant. It was overextended, too tight to maintain.

Images of the war flitted by him. In those flashes, the past was all too alive and excruciating. He witnessed the dead strewn across the battlefields, preyed upon by crows and worms. Mechanized soldiers, guymelfs and the more diminutive melfs, dueled for supremacy, decapitating limbs, murdering. People were raped and butchered before his eyes. He cried out and fought their assailants, but his blows went through the apparitions. A tangy, vermillion pool of blood drowned him, staining him with malignancy.

The darkness parted, a curtain of brown-red.

It was blood. No, wait, fire.

Van stood within the seething coals of Fanelia. The fire's orange and topaz tongues consumed whatever they touched. Buildings smoldered and buckled as their supports gave out, and people burned alive, rag dolls in an inferno. Hideously deformed children clung to the bonfires of their parents. Lovers keened as the fire ate their flesh and smoked away their tears. Then the snowy castle overlooking the torched ruins of homes and businesses rumbled and crumbled in on itself. The shockwave of its collapse resounded down the hillside. It set off a series of lesser earthquakes that sucked the surrounding area into a hellish abyss.

 _This isn't real! Stop it!_

He was back on the battlefield. This plain of arid wasteland spanned as far as he could see. A scent of decay, of rotting meat and spoilt eggs, lent the air an unwanted perfume. Under a leaden dawn, guymelf wreckage littered the landscape. Rusted scraps of metal stabbed into the colorless ground. Scattered around them were broken arrows, lost swords, and parts of armor. Here and there whole guymelfs sprawled, either speared through by a lance or charred from fire. Worst were the mangled corpses of the dead accompanying these broken dolls of war. Plump maggots and raggedy battle garb clothed them. Black carrion birds feasted off the fresher dead, strips of meat in their beaks, their midnight wings flapping. One regarded Van unflinchingly out of a crimson eye. Feathers tarnished with dust and human tissue fell around him, soiling him.

 _I don't want to remember this! No!_

Van knew he was tainted. This boneyard was the carnage his hands had wrought. It was the manifestation of the evil in his own heart.

The dead filled the air with their banshee howls. Skeletons reassembled themselves and dug out from a mass grave. Some armed themselves with weapons in better condition. Younger carcasses animated themselves as well, rolling white filmed eyes, baring teeth in gums. These partially devoured zombies staggered toward Van. They held the loops of their intestines and carried flopping, truncated limbs. These beings, the monsters he had created, formed a foul circle around him. He was imprisoned in the center, himself a shuddering, guilty mess with no choice but to accept their blame.

 _I can't…I can't take this. Please, someone…_

Van wept noiselessly. Tears flowed down from his horrified eyes, leaving wet tracks. The salty liquid dripped onto his gaunt cheekbones.

 _Sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me._

Night once more enveloped Van, his senses cloudy, muted. He was aware of something inside of him wavering like a candle against an immense wind. A force kept trying to snuff this little flame out. He realized he was dying, if not already dead.

No light.

Nothing left.

The candle, his essence, dimmed. He tumbled through the airless, soundless emptiness. Van grasped blindly, desperately through the blackness for redemption. He screamed for that soft, lilting voice. His anguish ripped through realities, through the veil of worlds and breached the void. There! Just the merest golden sheen of a reply. He reached for that resonation and whatever goodness might remain for him.

His hand connected with a smaller, feminine one.

"""""""

Dane rested his left hand on the prone king's forehead, pushing as much Power as he could in through the man's third eye and circulating it throughout his body. His Key glistened like lambent jade and thrummed as it worked, similar to helicopter blades. The husk grew a few degrees warmer, and limbs jolted sporadically from the nerves being stimulated by the energy. Some of the blueness left the king's lips, but even so, he was still dead.

Nervous, Dane sought any sign of movement from Hitomi. Shortly after he began feeding Power into the Dragon King's corpse, Hitomi went quiet, slumped forward, and fainted. She was in a strange position, half lying across the bed, half kneeling. The fingers of one hand wove through the king's own, and the other clutched at a necklace around the monarch's neck in a viselike grip. This jewel, a replica of Dane's own, blazed bloody and constant, a lantern to the taper of his Key. The contrast between the sizes of their powers was amazing and terrifying.

The healer ran his right hand over the top of Hitomi's head. He gauged her state through the combined lenses of his psychometry and empathy. She was unconscious and breathing shallowly, and her pulse fluttered like a wild canary in a cage. Something pulled at her as fiercely as a rapid river, and it put a strain on her body. Her cells shrieked from the tension. They needed relief, life. To bring the king back, she had slightly wedged the door to death open and held it thus stubbornly. In doing so, the realm of the dead leeched away her vitality, her very being.

It was a gamble that she would lose.

Dane's first impulse was to ignore the king's cadaver and do something for the woman splayed across it, him. He could wake her, rejuvenate her, and bring her back to this world. In the end, Hitomi's own emotions prevented him from doing so. He felt her desperation, her yearning, and her unswaying love. It was this love, mixed with a knife-edge of loss and uncertainty, which stilled him. She sacrificed herself for the king not out of duty or friendship, but because she loved this man. For her, that was enough. The very least he could do for her was abide by her wish. Dane kept the circuit of Power gushing through the king.

"Who are you?" demanded a stony voice.

Apparently, the people in the room were coherent again. Unlike them, he had recuperated from the sunburst of Power early, most likely due to his pendant.

Not bothering to look at the speaker, Dane replied, "I'm a healer. She's an old friend."

"You're not allowed in here. Get away from the king! Guards-"

"Step off, old man." That was Aldric, croaky but strong. "I brought 'em."

"Show some respect! The king is-"

"Even more reason to let them do something!"

A teary female voice joined them. "H-Hitomi?"

"You know her, Merle?" Aldric again.

"Yes. Trigornia, please, it's _her._ Hitomi Kanzaki, the girl from the Mystic Moon."

"Nonsense! I don't believe-"

"If anyone can save Lord Van-"

Someone lingered by Dane's side. It was an older man, weary and grim, but with a bearing of competency. The healer recognized him as the physician that Hitomi had knocked aside in her haste.

"I'm going to continue trying to resuscitate the king," the doctor stated and resumed his former station over the monarch's chest. "Do whatever you need to. Maybe something good will happen between the two of us."

Dane nodded in agreement, his hands sweltering with Power. The physician pinched the king's nose, breathed air into his mouth, and resumed pumping the static chest.

 _Okay, Hitomi. I'll do this your way. I'm going to believe that the king and you are going to be fine_ , Dane thought at the motionless woman.

"""""""

Through his hell, something tugged on Van's heart. It took him a moment to identify what it was, the link between Hitomi and himself. He had sealed it off years ago. Not as skilled as she had been with the pendant, he had merely wished as fervently as he could to sever the bond between them. The pendant had complied by barring their channel and separating them as a dam does a river.

As time progressed, he readjusted to the mental solitude and accepted the impenetrable wall as an extension of himself. What never went away was the chronic aching, the unhealing. Van learned how to cope with it though. He distracted himself with matters of ruling and rebuilding, even sword practice. He crowded his mind with economic policies, architectural plans, and buffers against a spreading disease. There were court and council meetings, etiquette and diplomacy lessons, foreign dignitaries and rulers to entertain, and a bride to choose. All of this anesthetized him to the rawness of the wound, dumbed it down to the point where he could almost forget it.

Forget about her.

Now the link was exposed and the wall blasted away.

Van felt _her_.

Hitomi.

In this void, she was everywhere. She existed all around him in fine, incandescent dust particles. They lit the darkness, tiny fireballs, dear fireflies. In them, he glimpsed her smile, her courage, her soul. These pink and gold sparks transformed this bottomless pit into a star-filled night. They built a ladder made of auroras that drew him ever up, up.

It was an exit. He was certain of it.

Van gritted his teeth and grunted. His frame arched, tensed. Two vertical lines stung down his back. Something bulged beneath the flesh there and pressed relentlessly outward. With a burst of agony and euphoria, the skin split as easily as moist tissue paper. Large, milky wings sprouted from his supple back. Beating the bird-like appendages, he arrested his pinwheeling descent and hovered in the sable vacuum.

His head craned upwards. _That way_ , he thought.

Following the shining fireflies, he flapped and ascended, wings agleam. He did not know how long he climbed through death. It could have been moments or a century. On he flew, winding his way upward through the ladder. Its rungs thickened into rivulets, which frosted over into lakes. Further above him, the radiance bleached out into a frothy pillar. It dominated his field of vision, a passageway shooting up with no apparent end. The current of the pillar plucked at him, encouraging him to soar higher.

Van meant to proceed, but a shadow slinking just outside the lucence of the pillar sidetracked him. This starless patch of umbra flattened and broadened out like a baker's bread dough. It bubbled and squirmed, more liquid than solid. Chthonic, gummy ribbons reared up from the corpus and interwove themselves. At last, they solidified into a wraith draped in menace. It emanated an arctic freeze deeper and bitterer than even the realm of the dead.

He brought himself to an abrupt halt, the tendons in his shoulders and back pumping his wings, and scowled at the apparition. It had hidden in the darkest nooks of his bedroom and tortured him through so many nightmares. No one else had seen it, but he had. While he had suffered, it had laughed at him. He could never forget its emaciated figure and wasted face, a face so grotesque it had to be from the underworld.

"Foolish man. The dead cannot live again," it spat at him, each word a poison that corroded the light.

"You were there while I was dying," Van said. His eyebrows knitted together over the bridge of his nose.

"I watched."

Anger ignited in him. "My pain gave you pleasure."

"Yes."

"Damn you!" he shouted at the entity. He glided closer to the edge of the illumination encapsulating him.

"You cannot go back," it reiterated in a monotonous, parched voice.

"I've done it before." His fury made him daring.

"But not again." The cloak of the phantom's malice lashed about it like a rook's wings.

Not bothering to argue more, Van accelerated into true flight. He flew quickly, urgently for the pillar and its promise of sanctuary. Every muscle in his body labored towards it. While the wraith avoided the light, it extended a malleable tentacle out from itself and sent it after him. The appendage snaked around the king's ankle and congealed there, fighting the pillar's tow. It deadened the spot where it touched him. Like a wounded bird, his wings beat erratically, pitifully. He kicked and punched the umbra, even raked his nails across it, but it would not release him.

"…won't allow..."

A voice.

Surprised, Van missed a wingbeat, and the tentacle heaved him back down to the entity's level. It jerked at his leg, seeking to ferry him out of the pillar and over to the shadowy being. Again, Van defied it, wings churning cyclonically, teeth clamped together. His ankle twinged and bent painfully at an angle. Still, the tentacle conveyed him bit by bit to the boundary of the cone of light. In his chest, he discerned that perplexing candle wobble and flicker, so near to the end of its wick.

The creature was there, not far now. He couldn't break away from it. Its eyes yawned at him. They chained him to it. The beast was ravenous. Would it eat him? _Hitomi_ , he thought inexplicably, forlornly.

One of the peculiar, glimmering dust motes coasted indolently through the void and alighted on the tentacle. The spark shone, kindled, and sliced through the umbra as keenly as a laser. A squeal of rage shrilled through the darkness, rending it. The thing on Van's ankle fizzed and deliquesced away, liberating him. He flung himself away from the creature, his wings at full length and no longer needing to beat. Oddly, he could float effortlessly now.

A second firefly of radiance sparkled by him, followed by another and another. A horde of them abandoned their posts as celestial lamps and atoms of the pillar. They huddled together between Van and the phantom. The shimmering, molten specks amassed and converged into a column of frosty-azure fire. He noted subtle sheens of jade and amber interspersed in the flame. Being so close to it, he should have been singed by it, but there was nothing except a nourishing heat.

The firelight thinned and grew into a sphere. As he watched, it carved out human features from the glow-in-the-dark clay, an hourglass figure, sensual lips, graceful hands. Two piercing, green eyes opened and a nude woman was complete. Bathed in kaleidoscopic hues, she was otherworldly and iridescent, her countenance solemn and gentle. He knew her but didn't.

"I won't allow that," the woman repeated.

"Hitomi!" Van gasped.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

Hello, my darlings! Wow, it's been _**four**_ months since my last update. T_T *dodges wadded up sheets of paper and spitballs* I'm really, really sorry about the lateness of this chapter! Honestly, there has just been so much happening with my studies and life. It all sucked the creativity out of me and ate away at my spare time. (Well, so did _Zootopia_. A lot. I am fiercely fan-shipping NickxJudy! I was even thinking about doing a fan fiction about them…) Wah! I'm a terrible writer, particularly in regards to having some kind of a legitimate schedule for updates. *bows* I do hope that this chapter was worth the wait. From this point on, the pace of "Soulmates" will be much faster and more eventful. (And more challenging to write. ^_^; )

I had a few people poke me over the last months to see if I'm alive (pandorababe, banryuu, and nofreakingway). *guilt* I am, lol! Thank you for that! It got me off my bum and set me to writing. Again! As always, thank you to everyone who has stuck with this crazy story and continued to review. You're my inspiration to keep moving forward with this beast and why I am still here. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Eleven"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: Oh, my goodness! There was a surge in reviews this last chapter. ^.^ I'm really amazed and touched by that. Thank you all for your continued support! I want to "shout out" to the newest reviewers: M M Forever, Cathline, and Baldeo. (I've been trying to respond to everyone again, although I'm, admittedly, slow about it.)

For the regulars, you have been my support and continued motivation for this story in its current, and future, complexity. I know I have said this a lot, but my gratitude is boundless to you all.

Edited: 10/28/2017

"""""""

"At last, you are both here." Shadow threaded its talon-like fingers together, the nails clinking.

Having just arrived at this point in the nether realm, it took a moment for the Demon's words to register with Hitomi. Her mind processed the present events slowly, weary as she was from the passage through death and the sapping of her energy.

She had scoured the underworld for Van, dowsing through innumerable versions of the afterlife and encountering their eerie inhabitants. Like her first time chasing the king through death, none of these grim travelers had noticed or reacted to her. She had trod through gloom that ever altered its density, sometimes a fog, an ocean, an abyss. When Hitomi feared being lost and doubted her own power, the prismatic cord had guided her here to Van. When she happened upon Shadow attacking Van in the pillar of light, she had inserted herself between the two.

"Both of us?" Van echoed. He ruffled his wings in agitation, the feathers swooshing against each other. "Don't fuck with me! You damn well won't touch her!"

For Hitomi, it was like wakening from a drug-induced stupor, a dense, cottony haze. She recalled the two visions from Earth, the one of Van and the other of Shadow. She pieced them together with the five-card tarot reading: Death reversed, The Fool upright, Ace of Serpents reversed, The Devil upright, and The Lovers upright. Everything fit together now. It was so simple, so straightforward. She had read the cards incorrectly. What they said had been so obvious, right on the surface.

Only someone truly in love would recklessly run into the realm of the dead to rescue a dragon from a diabolical entity.

"You planned this," she accused Shadow, a tremor passing through her. "From the beginning, this was all you."

From behind her, Van sputtered in disbelief, "This…what?"

The Demon said nothing, merely cast the chasm of its eyes back to her. Though only sockets, they focused intently upon her chest. Hitomi glanced down at a spiked ruby on a filament of yellow, the pendant. It had followed her into death without her knowing, ever loyal. Involuntarily, her hand fisted around it.

"You want the pendant." Her voice wobbled, revealing how afraid she was. They had all played into Shadow's hands so seamlessly, so unwittingly.

"Yes," confirmed the Demon, its tone abrasive as sandpaper.

"Just take it then!" she shouted. Frustrated tears welled in her eyes, causing them to glisten like shamrock-colored pools.

"I cannot," it intoned.

It was true; the pendant chose its owner. During the war, people had attempted to spirit the necklace away from Hitomi: Merle, the Moleman, and a Doppleganger. The Atlantis pendant had always found its way back to her and sometimes caused misfortune to the would-be thief when doing so.

If the Demon was being honest now, then it was sure of its victory. It was likely that both Van and she wouldn't make it back to life, but maybe she could give him a chance to escape. _Leave. Just leave,_ she thought anxiously at the king, hoping the pendant would impress her desire upon him.

Aiming to distract the Demon, she questioned, "Why all this misery? Why torment Van?"

"You would not have come to Gaea otherwise," Shadow stated. A maggot slithered from out of one of its nostrils and buried itself in the other.

An urgent hand fastened around Hitomi's upper arm, hurting her. Off guard, she looked next to her. Van, having abandoned the funnel of illumination and ignoring his own wellbeing, lingered in agitated confusion by her. His eyes, sharp as garnet chips, penetrated into her, his expression stark. "Hitomi, why…how are you even here?"

"You have to go back," she whispered, eyes downcast.

"What aren't you telling me?" he demanded, his voice strained.

"We have no time."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Shadow responded before he could. "Enough talk. Neither of you will return!"

The air, if it could be called that, simmered on either side of Shadow. It warped and rumbled much as a sheet of aluminum would. Once the distortion ceased, two ill-proportioned monsters flanked the phantom. Their ashen hides shone like the surface of the moon, guts distended, and purple, serpentine tongues lolling. The Demons, so similar to their brethren on the Main Road, trained their starving cave-eyes on the pair. Malevolence rolled off of them in smoldering waves, noxious as lava.

"Hitomi!" Van yelled in warning.

"Your souls are mine!" Shadow bayed, shrill as a braking train.

The Demon reached for them, its mantle blowing in a hellish wind. The entity brewed and stormed, rising up and up in a swollen mass of evil. It dwarfed Van and Hitomi, bearing down on them as a giant tsunami. The hounds, its companions, howled in unison and charged forward on all fours. They bared their keen fangs, tongues drooling. It was a race to see which would tear the two apart first.

Everything decelerated from Hitomi's perspective. The slick, oily shroud of Shadow bloated as menacingly as a thunderhead above Van and her. Its gruesome lackeys bounded towards them, a set of wrongly segmented dogs. Sighting them, Van released her arm and splayed his wings, preparing to rush in front of Hitomi. He sank into a crouch, his nude body lithe and wings shimmering.

Van was going to shield her from the Demons. She knew it. He wanted to protect her, even if it meant sacrificing his soul.

She would never let him though.

With his wings in mid-beat, Hitomi whirled and pushed Van as hard as she could towards the pillar. The momentum thrusted him back into the outer cone of fizzy energy. He flew away from her, arms and legs wide. His wings hung limp around him, useless from being off balance. He gawked at her, his countenance stunned and betrayed. Once more she grasped the pendant. Its jewel flamed claret, emitting a bloody aureole around her throat and breasts. The pillar of light intensified, condensing and brightening. Its current pulled on Van's wings and limbs, a river that wouldn't be denied.

"Go!" she ordered him. "Go now!"

As the pillar yanked him relentlessly upward, Van extended his arms out to her, his hands fishing about for her own. He spoke to her, words she couldn't hear. Crying, she memorized him in that watery instant, his eyes desperate, his lips parted, his crow-black hair flitting about his forehead and cheeks. Like a straw, the pressure of the pillar sucked the him backward. Everything compressed into a star beam, a bolt of energy, and evaporated away.

Hitomi didn't bother to face her attackers; the smell of rot told her they were nearby. Ducking her head, she made a final wish. The pendant gonged at her in distress. She couldn't blame it. She had no idea what would happen to either of them with this wish. Still, there was no going back.

Unable to deny her will, the pendant's stone juddered and steamed. Something inside of it dissolved, liquefying and vanishing. Just as in the king's bedchamber, a blast of brilliance spewed out along with a bang so loud it was deafening. Soon, all was silent and white, consumed by that one immense burst. A cascade of Power churned over and through Hitomi, roasting her skin and electrocuting her innards. It smelt of lightning, of sky. She screamed. Her consciousness waned in and out, washed in an unforgiving, monochromatic radiance. It dominated everything around her, surpassing death and life, the chaotic birth of a universe.

And then stillness, nothing.

"""""""

Dane's hands blistered from the prolonged intensity of Power, the underside of his fingers and palms raw as hamburger. The skin there fumed a bright red. His fingers ached with a sensation akin to frostbite. He was so very tired, the kind of exhaustion that dazes the mind. His grass-green pendant palpitated less frequently than before, its glow drastically reduced. Nevertheless, he dared not stop channeling energy into the husk of the king.

The physician gave up reviving King Van after the body purpled and started to stink. Now he discussed matters on the far side of the bedchamber with the man, Trigornia. Meanwhile, a catgirl with pink hair knelt in the physician's old place, maintaining a vigil over the monarch. She clutched the man's lax hand, each jolt of Power a false hope for her. Meanwhile, Aldric scooped Hitomi up and laid her vulnerable body across the bed beside the king. Two others, a bearded goliath and a dark beauty, loitered against a wall, clearly uncertain of what to do.

"Merle," Aldric murmured carefully, "perhaps we should let Trigornia take the-"

"No! I'm not giving up! Hitomi wouldn't!" she hissed. Salty liquid overflowed from the catgirl's eyes and skimmed off her narrow chin and translucent whiskers. Her feather-duster tail lashed savagely, as any unsettled feline's back on Earth would.

Aldric gazed mournfully down at the duo pillowed in the mammoth bed. "King Van is dead. We tried to save him and couldn't. Nothing can change what is. If this thing Hitomi's doing continues on any longer, I fear the same will happen to her."

Dane understood the general's logic and couldn't disagree. At this point, Hitomi looked bad. Her flesh, once lush and rosy, had blanched to an ashy pallor. She breathed sluggishly. Her chest rattled with each rise and fall. Her eyelids trembled, as if fighting to rouse. A subtle, peculiar odor wafted off of her, a sourness, a decay that didn't belong to the living.

"I'm running out of strength," he rasped. Aldric started, having forgotten the healer's presence. "I can stay with the king until I'm burned out, or I can try to help Hitomi. She'll hate me for saying this, but I prefer the latter."

 _That is, if she'll let me,_ Dane thought miserably. When someone resisted his healing, he couldn't do much for them.

The catgirl whimpered, putting the king's cold palm against her cheek. "Wake up, Lord Van. Please!"

Jaw set, Aldric nodded his assent to the healer.

Dane began the process of shutting down the monarch's chakras and decreasing the Power issuing through the body to wisps. Not doing so carefully could ignite the corpse into flames. However, when the king's chakras refused to close and Power continued leaking into him, the healer frowned. Some foreign presence was interfering with his abilities.

The ruby necklace around the king's neck surged into astonishing luster. Dane flinched and covered his bespectacled eyes from the Key's glare with his arm. His own pendant twanged in answer, kindling from the renewed vigor of the other. Then something possessed the healer, repositioning him over the cadaver. His hand lifted, bunched into a fist, and hammered down on the king's chest, once, twice. When nothing happened, Dane watched in trepidation as his fingers constricted more and smashed down a third time onto the man's ribcage. His ears rang, and his arm smarted as if from punching an iron anvil.

"Get away from him!" screeched the catgirl, horrified. Her claws slid out. She shoved Dane away from the king, her nails ripping through his shirt.

Aldric caught the fatigued healer as he stumbled back a pace. Whatever force controlled Dane deserted him as unexpectedly as it had come. He flopped totally against Aldric, a marionette discarded by its puppeteer. The taller general struggled to keep both of them on their feet. Uncaring of his disgraceful state, Dane gaped at the colossal bed and what he saw.

A gasp came and a choke. After that, a second gasp and a grating wheeze. The king's torso jackknifed up, suspended for a second, and crumpled back upon the mattress.

The commotion emanating from the bed got the room's attention. The din of conversation quieted, and all eyes returned to the prone figures there. Aldric dragged the limp, flabbergasted Dane back to his patient. Shaky from the earlier trance, Dane sat on the mattress where the king was. The catgirl, Merle, peered fretfully over the healer's shoulder at her liege. Her paws fisted into the creased skirt of her dress. With the general and catgirl hovering nearby, Dane checked the king's pulse with two fingers to the neck. The strong, rhythmic tattoo there and the warmth of flesh dispelled any doubts he had.

"Oh, dear. He's alive. _Really_ alive," the healer squeaked.

The morbid solemnness of the chamber dissipated, pierced by a sunbeam of optimism. People exclaimed, laughed, and bunched around the monarch's ornate bed all at once. They needed to verify for themselves that the Dragon King was whole. Akin to devout, religious believers, they witnessed his serene breathing, his tan complexion, and his groan of discomfort. Although still thin and battered in appearance, the man was decidedly alive.

"Damn the gods," swore Aldric.

"Not possible." Trigornia's gray mustache puffed as he hyperventilated. "Devilry!"

"Quick! Fetch Lord Van a change of clothes!" Merle ordered to no one in particular. "He soiled himself. We have to-"

The uproar after that Dane paid no heed to. The physician and Merle fussed over the reanimated king, and the generals argued enthusiastically amongst themselves. Disregarding them, the healer observed the motionless woman across from King Van. Hitomi was yet unconscious. Standing, Dane navigated around the tumult surrounding the monarch on rubbery legs. Perched again on the opposite side of the bed, he called to the scant amount of strength residing in him. He poured what Power he could into Hitomi, his hands alternating between itching and pain.

At last, Dane spent all of his energy, his Key no more than a burned out battery. He panted and swiped at the perspiration on his brow with his wrist. Hitomi's eyes darted wildly beneath the lids. The healer tentatively touched her much cooler hand with his sore fingertips. _I did what you said, Hitomi, and the king is back. We did it. You did it,_ he mentally assured her. _You just have to wake up to see for yourself._

"""""""

The woman remained alone in a purgatory devoid of direction and time. She bobbed in the frigid, syrupy plasma of the dimension like an incandescent buoy. Her spirit shown a fireside topaz. She quizzically studied her hand and forearm producing this bizarre glow. They seemed normal enough, somehow intact after an explosion that had lasted for an eternity. What terrors and wonders she beheld, mighty supernovas and gargantuan balls of gas and flame, revolving cosmos and worlds of ice and dust.

An eon or more passed before she recollected her sense of self and what her name was. Hitomi. Who was she? Oh, yes. A Japanese woman from Earth. Why was she here? Of course. She had traveled to this other reality, to this other world, Gaea, to save something. Something precious. No, _someone_. Who was it? Who was he?

"Van," she answered herself aloud, a soprano, silvery note.

Rather than being absorbed by the abyss, the word resounded through the nihility and back on itself. These echoes, likewise, pealed through Hitomi, restoring sentience and feeling. She held the jewel of the pendant, with a much-changed visage, between her index finger and thumb and brought it up to eyelevel. It was as matte as midnight, a splinter of obsidian stone, a black hole in glass.

Then she remembered what she had done, the risky maneuver undertaken against the Demon. Somehow, miraculously, she had survived it. Had the Demon as well?

[Shadow is not beaten, Hitomi Kanzaki, merely thwarted.] The soundless presence, which had so frequently advised her, read her mind. Its telepathic voice tinkled as melodious as wind chimes. [What you have done is a small hindrance to it, but the Demon is wounded.]

As it spoke, the darkness quivered and spread wide as a curtain would. Hitomi waited as two beings joined her. Offering a scarlet-lipped smile, a woman sailed toward her. A silk, royal blue kimono with gold edging enveloped her willowy figure. A pink and maroon striped bow secured her garments in place below her bosom, the ends of the sash undulating around her supernaturally. She was lovely, with an earnest, oval face and twin dots on her forehead. A ghostly breeze blew the fabric of her clothes, the divided fringe of her bangs, and the impossible cascade of her sable tresses.

"You were very brave, girl from the Mystic Moon," Varie Fanel, queen of Fanelia, greeted Hitomi. Her mahogany eyes shown with kindness.

Aware she was unclothed, Hitomi modestly crossed her arms and legs, hiding herself from the regal lady. "Q-Queen Varie. I…I…"

The queen bowed her head, her voice honeyed and serene. "Thank you for helping Van. You risked great peril to yourself. Damage to one's soul is slow to heal and often times unrepairable."

"Did he make it? Is Van alive?" Hitomi asked apprehensively.

Varie sighed. "Yes, and with some time and help from the healer, he will be fine."

"I'm so glad." Hitomi visibly relaxed, so much so she forgot to keep covering herself. "I remembered what you told me about the pendant. I did my best to believe in a positive future."

"As did your friend, Dane. He did for Van in life what you did in death." Varie tilted her head, as if listening. "Even now, he's calling to you."

Before Hitomi could reply, the bodiless voice chimed, [Dare not tarry here, Hitomi Kanzaki. Thrice you have gone into death and cheated it. There are consequences for such feats, though you may not yet recognize that.]

Hitomi's attention turned to the creature beside to the queen. Shocked, she realized it was the owner of the psychic voice. Its beauty mystified and overwhelmed her. Why hadn't she noticed it before?

The entity presented itself as a humanoid being of interstellar grace. Its flesh glinted, seemingly spun from crystals, rainbows, and the purest of moonlight. It arced over Varie and her, a diamond, featureless head; a foaming shaft of light for a torso and legs; two sizeable, wing-like arms; and pin thin fingers. Though it had only the impression of a face, the creature radiated compassion and wisdom, its atoms twisted up with infinity and stars. Hitomi heard the musical resonance of its existence and felt its heat upon her, dispelling the chill of the void.

It swam nearer to her and swept her up into its effervescent, mother-of-pearl arms. Hitomi never considered fighting it, simply floated to it and allowed it to cradle her so tenderly. It shielded her from the nothingness around them. She could weep from its splendor. It was sunlight with phoenix wings, an opalescent angel, love embodied.

Supported in the crook of its right arm-wing, Hitomi babbled, "I know you. Sort of. You've been helping me and opposing Shadow."

[The Demon is my responsibility, but I cannot stop it. I am much weaker than it.] A sense of sadness and rain came from the entity. [I did what little I could for you within the confines of the rules of our game.]

"A game?"

[A game played between Shadow and I.]

"This was a game to you? All of this? What're we humans to you? Chess pieces?" Hitomi's brow furrowed in exasperation and resentment. "Our lives matter. _We_ matter."

Varie caressed Hitomi's cheek gently, her fingers downy as dove feathers. "Peace, child. Lucem is on the side of life and goodness. It knows this."

"Lucem?" Hitomi squinted at the haloed luminescence of the being. "Is that your name?"

[I have no name. Once, long ago, a mortal called me this. Perhaps it will be easier to think of me thus.]

Hitomi contemplated a minute, her lips pursed. "And why did you help me?"

"Because Lucem needs you," Varie replied somberly. "Just as you need it."

[We must be allies, Hitomi Kanzaki, if the Demon is to be defeated and all of creation saved. Otherwise, Shadow will devour this universe, this very dimension, and move on to the next. Its hunger for destruction is insatiable. It will never stop.]

"I know. It's too powerful." Hitomi rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "And the pendant? Could we…?"

Varie shook her head, strands of her mane slipping over her slim shoulders. "It is destroyed. Useless."

Hitomi swallowed with difficulty, a lump of guilt and regret lodged there. She had wished for the Atlantis pendant to sunder its link to Gaea's bloodline, the Power of Atlantis. In doing so, she had robbed the Key of its life force, its purpose. It had died like a crushed firefly, leaving behind the remnant of its exoskeleton, its shell. The pendant would be worthless to Shadow now, but it would be to them as well.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to keep it away from Shadow. That wish…it was all I could think of. I was so scared. The idea just popped into my head. I never thought that the pendant could be destroyed," she admitted despondently.

The shining creature respired rose-scented air upon her cheeks. [All things created by mortals can be broken. The Key is gone. In the battle to come, the pendant was necessary to control the Atlantis Power. That is why Shadow coveted it and plotted so cunningly for it.]

The backs of Hitomi's eyes stung as if bees were nesting in them. "There's a lot of stuff I don't understand. Why'd Shadow target Van? Why show me a vision of itself?"

"Five years ago, the love between my son and you overpowered mankind's hatred and destructiveness. In that moment, your mutual wish for peace and understanding channeled through the pendant created a Seal. It was this Seal on the Power Spot of Freid that shut down the Fate Alteration Engine. Without a power source, it could no longer function," Varie explained patiently.

[To break the Seal, both of the creators must perish. Shadow orchestrated events to trap and kill Van Fanel,] Lucem elaborated. [Then it lured you to Gaea by showing you your beloved in danger. However, it grew arrogant in its scheming and underestimated the lengths to which you would go to safeguard Van Fanel and the aid at your disposal.]

"I thought everything came together too easily." Hitomi's mouth opened in a tiny "o" of revelation. "Landing near to the Capital. Meeting Aldric, Ruhm, and Dane. That was you."

[I admit to, perhaps, helping you be in the right place at a convenient time. In truth, neither Shadow nor I can directly influence current events. Instead, we must rely upon you mortals and gamble on your free will.]

Lucem stroked its free, blazing wing-arm across Hitomi's face. It feathered over her skin, fluffy as a dandelion's down and delicate as a moth's antenna. She inhaled some kind of floral perfume. By the time the being removed its wing, her worldly concerns sizzled away like smudged out matchsticks. She leaned completely into Lucem's velvety fine chest, trusting it to bear her through the void. With the stress erased from her, she finally fathomed how drained she was.

[Shadow will continue its pursuit for Power. Having the Key would have made the conquest faster. Now, the Demon must fully merge with the Atlantis Power in order to control it.]

Hitomi stirred slightly at the entity's words. "But the Seal-"

"The Seal is barely intact. As long as one of the creator's lives, it will persist," Varie clarified. "My son died, but you remained alive. Now he lives, but your heart has stopped. You've both tasted death, and the Seal has weakened as a result."

"Shadow will find a way to break it," Hitomi whispered.

[It can do this in a number of ways. Be on your guard. I am not certain what Shadow's next move will be.]

All Hitomi desired was to succumb to her fatigue. It would be so pleasant to be rocked into slumber in the security of Lucem's arm-wings, far from murder plots and paranormal pandemonium. She would have no worries. No one would interrupt her peace. But that wouldn't help Van or Gaea. It wouldn't stop Shadow.

"What can we do?" Hitomi asked muzzily. Her tongue was clumsy, heavy.

[Someone else must obtain Power before the Demon. Only then can Shadow be contained.] Lucem's sunlit embrace drew Hitomi further in, lulling her. All things of fire and serenity were there. For a time, she contented herself in its arm-hammock. She was safe.

Yet a question surfaced.

"How can someone join with Power?" she inquired, her voice muffled from lethargy.

[Power is attracted to whoever has the strongest will or desire, the most powerful wish. Someone on Gaea must be found to counteract Shadow, a person qualified to be the Chosen.]

Varie added, "The Chosen must be someone who is psychically and emotionally developed enough to wield Power and not be overwhelmed by it."

Hitomi's eyelids lowered. Images of cloudbanks and a spring meadow in bloom drove sleepiness closer to her. She could not see details in what was the being's face, but she recognized its paternal smile. Innocent as a child, she snuggled into Lucem's breast and yawned.

"Hitomi, Lucem has picked you for its avatar." Varie's voice was hushed, reverent.

"No. Can't be me," she drowsily objected.

[I set this task before you, Hitomi Kanzaki, because I cannot do it. I am helpless, so helpless. Trapped so that Power remains beyond my reach. I need an avatar, a Chosen, someone to act in my stead. When you merge with Power, then I become one with you. Only together can we end Shadow's darkness.]

"I'm scared. I can't."

[You must choose to take up this task of your own free will. I do not lie. What I ask of you is dangerous. So much could go wrong. You could lose your life, your soul. Power is a volatile substance. If your heart waivers even a little, you could be burned from existence. And if we merge, I cannot say that each of our personas will survive or which will be dominant.]

"This is too much…I-I…"

[We must not let the Demon join with Power. You have slowed Shadow. This time is a gift to yourself. Use it to think.]

"No…not me..."

"Please, give my love to Van, to my son," murmured Varie from far, far away.

Fleecy lips kissed Hitomi's forehead, sparking as they did. [Go, my little one. Be safe. Go…back…]

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

Because I felt bad for the 4 month gap last time, here's a second update within the same month! Yay! ^_^ *proud feeling* Okay, I have a lot to say this time around.

First off, because a few people have asked, I want to clarify that "Soulmates" is not complete. It's going to be a long, long ride with this fic. *embarrassed by own fan obsession* Chapter 11 simply concludes Part I: Earth, and Chapter 12 will open Part II: Gaea. In total, there will be 3 or 4 sections all contained within this same story. I'm trying to match my plot to the intricacies of the original. To do so, this story will grow to be a monster fic, hence "The Beast" nickname. ^_^;;; (If no one wants to stick around, I totally understand! I hope that you will, though!)

Second, I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I plan to have most of the Escaflowne cast make some kind of an appearance. ^_^ The original characters are just too fantastic; I can't allow myself to leave any of them out! So, expect to see familiar faces popping up as more events unfold.

Third, we finally meet Hitomi's mysterious telepath and Shadow's nemesis, Lucem! We also get some answers to longstanding questions and a hint of what's to come. Poor Hitomi! She's not too keen on what Lucem and Varie have asked of her, and I think we broke Dane. Ahehe. But, more importantly, just know **Chapter 12 contains the "real" Van and Hitomi reunion.** (I'm such a tease! Muwhaha!)


	12. Part II, GAEA: Chapter 12

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Twelve"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: This chapter became massive, so I chose to break it up into two parts. I meant to post both of these chapters together, since I felt bad about the little teaser at the end of Ch.11 and wanted so badly to live up to it. In the end, I've opted to just post Ch.12 and keep hammering away at Ch.13.

Edited: 11/3/2017

"""""""

Whimpering, Hitomi woke to a span of chalky white and feared she was still in that other realm, consumed by it. When her vision refocused, she saw the exterior of a ceiling patterned with valleys of gray and dusk blue. A scintillating, lemon hued ray of sunlight played across it. She groggily regarded the ceiling and adjusted to the luster of early morning.

The need to relieve herself, the urgency which roused her to begin with, asserted itself again. A pressure over her bladder squeezed it further, adding to its overburdened state. Though her limbs felt unwieldly and weak, she slithered her arms out from beneath the feather-down bedspread and sheets. She contracted her muscles and pushed feebly, but persistently, at the covers, her arms juddering. The layers peeled back and humped at her waist. There, her fingers encountered the crest of something fleecy and fine, and a male voice grumbled at the shift of the bedcovers.

"Don't suffocate me." A head of unruly, ginger-orange curls lifted from the spurned pile of sheets. Tawny eyes blinked blearily at her; it was Dane's freckled face, somnolent and spectacles free.

"Dane," Hitomi croaked. Was that her voice? It was thick and gritty from disuse. Her throat, as arid as a wasteland, itched. She sucked at her cheeks. Everything tasted disgustingly sour.

"H-Hitomi! I must've nodded off." Dane jammed his glasses back onto his nose and stood up from the padded chair he had been slouched over in. "You're awake! I'm so glad. How do you-"

"Got to go."

"Go where? You're not in any shape to-"

"Toilet."

His eyes enlarged with comprehension, and a flush turned his cheeks and ears as scarlet as a dragon's heartstone. He fluttered his hands fretfully, indecisively over her. "Oh, dear. Um, let me get a female servant. Or Merle. Or…"

"Can't wait."

"Right. I was…am…a healer. I mean, I was training to be a doctor," he babbled in embarrassment. "It's routine. Just, ah, helping a patient-"

The pain in her abdomen flared. " _Dane._ "

"Yes!"

Dane retrieved a bedpan from somewhere beneath Hitomi's bed. It stank of harsh soap and piss, but she didn't care. Together, they rolled her to the edge of the mattress, tipped her up, and lowered her onto her quivering legs. Squatting over the pan, she leaned against the bed for support, Dane clutching her armpits to aid her balance, his hands in gauze. The frilly nightgown pooled around her. Thanking whoever put it on her, she fluffed out the baggy garment farther. It concealed her nether regions as she peed, although the ring of metal betrayed the action itself.

Afterwards, Dane toed the pan back under the bed and strained to elevate Hitomi. With her legs rubbery and energy spent, she fairly wilted across the mattress, the nightgown bunching around her knees. Dane, whose mortified expression had deepened to carmine, arranged her legs, smoothed her nightclothes, and bundled the covers back over her. He muttered something about responsibility and professionalism.

Hitomi's lashes dipped down over her eyes. The mattress was pliant beneath her back, and the bedclothes swaddled her in a warm cocoon. It reminded her of Lucem's embrace, so snug, so cozy. She drifted off once more, nonsensically reflecting on how nice Dane was and why his hands were bandaged.

"""""""

When Hitomi truly surfaced from sleep, the light had darkened to mustard and migrated to the far side of the marble ceiling. Again, she lay for a minute or two, mentally casting off the fuzziness of slumber and progressing through the catalogue of recent events. Then she became aware of physical discomfort: the smarting lump on her head, the tenderness of her bruised hip, the cramp in her back, and the folded blanket beneath her knees. Cautiously, she moved her head and met the shrewd stare of an elderly man with frizzy hair and bags beneath his eyes.

"Good afternoon," he said, setting the leather-bound book he had been reading aside on a small table. He rose from the same chair once occupied by Dane.

She somehow produced a feeble smile. "H-Hello."

"Do you know who you are?" He took her wrist in his hand and counted off the beats of her heart.

"Of course." Her voice still sounded hoarse, but it possessed more clarity than before. "I also remember you."

He sniffed. "Oh, do you?"

"I'm sorry about, er, pushing you before." Her cheeks reddened a tad. He was the doctor she had all but shoved aside before leaping to Van's defense in the royal chambers.

"My name is Varys." The physician glowered at her down the broad tip of his nose. "And you, young lady, are very, _very_ lucky to be alive."

Hitomi coughed. "Y-Yes."

"No concussion or memory loss." He put a finger on top of her eyelid and drew it up to gaze into her pupil. He harrumphed to himself. "Can you feel your fingers and toes? Can you move them?"

Nodding, Hitomi demonstrated by wriggling her fingers and kicking the blanket beneath her knees away. She tried to sit up but flopped back down meekly, the room whirling about her. To fight it, she shut her eyes but was unable to escape the sensation of being on a carnival ride.

Varys nudged her pillow more firmly beneath her head. "Don't try standing yet. You've been unconscious for two days. I'm going to fetch your healer friend. He'll want to do a session with you. Maybe after that…"

"W-Where is Dane?" she asked.

"I'd imagine finally resting, the loon. Between the king and you, he's been wearing himself thin. Wouldn't even heal himself. Saved all his gift for you both."

Guiltily, she recalled the dressings on the healer's hands. "I need to thank him."

Varys disappeared behind a tapestry of the Mystic Moon and its pearly partner on the wall opposite her bed. He emerged with an armful of extra pillows and stuffed them behind Hitomi's head and back. The doctor tugged her up into a seated position, the pillows bearing most of her weight, and tucked the blanket around her. He poured a silvery stream of water from a pitcher on the table into a cup. She accepted it from him, glad to see she wasn't shaking with exhaustion anymore.

"I don't want you dehydrated. Drink this while I'm gone. Slowly," he ordered gruffly and departed through her bedroom door into the hallway beyond.

"""""""

Thirsty, Hitomi downed most of the water by the time Dane let himself in. Wearing fresh clothes and toting the tatty, brown satchel from Arzas, he dragged the chair nearer to her bedside and plopped down into it. He averted his eyes from hers and cleared his throat. She noticed his hands, although now devoid of bandages, were splotchy with the shine of newly regenerated skin.

"Dane, I'm sorry about your hands." With her throat moistened, Hitomi's voice was more normal. "You were burned by Power?"

He removed the cup from her lax hands and set it aside. "I healed the nerves once I regained some strength. After that, it was tolerable."

"You were saving your energy for Van and me. Thank you." Hitomi inclined her head in a show of respect and gratitude, but her eyes stole remorsefully to the healer's hands.

Dane replied, "Once you both were over the worst, I healed the skin. I'm fine now."

"Okay." She remembered what else he had done for her and pink stained her cheeks. "And for, ah, helping me with t-that…o-other thing…"

Dane's ears and neck colored scarlet, but he kept his face composed. "No problem. Any doctor would, um, do that for a patient."

"How's Van?" She changed the subject to her main concern.

The healer paused before answering, deliberating. "The king is tough. He's recovered nicely, although he'll need more rest. The last three days I've conducted sessions with him to undo as much of the damage as I can."

Hitomi detected a note of hesitation in the man's tone. "Damage from what, Dane? You're not telling me something."

Dane bit his bottom lip.

"We both know that what was wrong with Van wasn't Plague and that it had something to do with Power. There's no use hiding anything from me, not with my abilities. You may as well just be honest. One way or the other, I _will_ find out what you're withholding," she said obstinately.

"Oh, dear. Fine, I'll explain everything to you," the healer relented. A tenacious man himself, he hoisted himself up to his feet, planted his hands on his hips, and frowned down at her. "First, you're going to sit there quietly and let me heal you."

She groaned but allowed the healer to infuse her with energy. In her mind's eye, his aura still shown a burnished amber, except it had more than doubled in size. It blazed about him, a fiery mantle, a red giant's corona. His pendant acknowledged her with a gong of recognition, its glass-green gem palpitating along with its owner's pulse. Just like before, the effervescent, galvanized Power collected into Dane, was somehow converted, and channeled out through his hands. When he touched her, there was no longer that odd static shock between them.

Power, devoid of its sparking intensity, entered Hitomi in buttery wavelets like ripples across a tropical sea. Her cells rejuvenated, an incessant tickling which spread throughout her physique. Soon, the soreness from her previous fall waned and her contusions evanesced. Still unused to the rapid healing, she investigated the location of the knot on her head gingerly with her fingers, but there was no swelling, nothing. Even her residual fatigue frizzled away and left her with increased lucidity.

Once the session concluded, Dane rooted around in his satchel for glass vials and sealed jars. He mixed ingredients together, earthen powders and dried herbs, into a pungent brew in Hitomi's cup. With the water from the pitcher, he diluted it into a tea and handed it to her. She gagged at the rotting onion stench of it, uncertain if she could stomach it. Dane hawk-watched her until she pinched her nose and chugged it. He lectured about vitamins while she wiped her mouth on the arm of her nightgown, repulsed.

The last of the water followed, and Dane settled in for a chat while Hitomi sipped from the cup. He recapped her levitating and being suffocated by an invisible presence, the explosion of light, and his hypothesis about not being blinded by it because of his pendant. Then he described how something supernatural possessed him, the miraculous return of the king from death, and how she died, temporarily, herself. At that point, Dane had used up all his gift and teetered on fainting, so restarting her heart had fallen to the royal physician. After more than thirty seconds, Varys had, indeed, resuscitated her.

"It was scary," Dane admitted, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "The king came back and then you didn't. I was helpless as a kitten. The relief I felt when Varys… Just don't ever scare me like that again."

"I'll have to be nicer to him." Hitomi swiped a hand through her matted hair. Styled to be a tiered bob, it likely resembled more of a tangled disaster now. She especially dreaded knowing what her antenna looked like after two days of bedhead. _Probably a bug's feelers,_ she groused inwardly.

Dane chuckled. "He's hard around the edges, but he really cares about others. He's a good doctor."

"Hmm."

"He's going to mentor me. Varys wants to pick up where my Earth studies left off and fill in the gaps of herb lore that the Wolves taught me."

"That will be very useful in the future." Hitomi pursed her lips. "Now, let's move on to what made Van sick."

The healer replaced his materials in the satchel, glass clinking. "I wanted you to rest more before having this talk, but since you insist, I won't avoid it. I've had several opportunities to examine the king. During those times, I found the remnants of glaar leaves in his system and damage to his stomach, liver, kidneys, and heart."

"I know about glaar leaves." Her blue-emerald eyes widened. "They neutralize poison."

"Correct. Along with that, I've been burning out trace amounts of Power still in King Van's bloodstream."

"You're saying this was a poison with Power in it?"

"Oh, dear. When you put it that way, it does sound strange." Dane massaged the back of his neck. "It's a poison that's odorless, tasteless, and colorless. I bet it's made from some kind of natural plant base. Somehow, it's been reengineered with Power, just enough to make it resemble Plague."

"That explains everything: the suddenness of Van's illness, the misdiagnosis of Plague, and even why we sensed Power," she agreed.

"This concoction is incredibly potent even in small doses, which means the king was poisoned recently. If the murderer wanted others to think that the cause of death was Plague, the poison had to be administered frequently enough to have a time span similar to such an infection."

"That's horrible!" cried Hitomi, appalled.

"And clever." Dane rummaged through his travel bag once more and cupped a tiny, capped vial in his palm. To Hitomi, it appeared murky with what could be squid ink. "An easy way to give it to him would be through what he eats and drinks. I've used my sway as a healer to limit him to porridge and water, and I've been monitoring his intake. It wasn't until this morning that something strange turned up in the king's drinking water."

"That's the poison." Hitomi pointed her index finger at the blotchy vial. "It's all _wrong_."

"Your gift of sight is amazing!" Dane exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in astonishment and admiration. "To everyone else, this looks like regular water. I caught this because I felt Power in it."

"The Power there is dark. It's tainted," she said, her eyes unfocusing. On their own, her fingers wrapped around the vial. An image of old, brown-red blood splatters muddled the screen of her mind. She relinquished the vial immediately back to Dane in revulsion. "Who else knows?"

The healer fiddled with the wire frames of his glasses. "Ah, aside from you, I've only told the king. To be honest, he already guessed as much. In fact, it was his idea to get the glaar leaves. Someone near to him, someone he won't name, gave them to him. Those leaves bought us enough time to get to him."

 _It's Merle. There's no one else Van would trust more with his life,_ Hitomi surmised. Her fingers subconsciously frisked about her throat for a pendant that no longer hung there.

Aloud she said, "If Van's not giving away that person's identity, then he suspects someone close to him to be the poisoner. He's protecting the one person he can trust."

"He also trusts you. I felt that." Dane beamed at her shyly. "He asks about you. He wanted to come see you, but his advisor, Trigornia, and Varys won't let him out of bed. Well, neither would I."

Hitomi's cheeks warmed, and she obscured her eyes with the curtain of her lashes. Hearing this evoked a bewildering swirl of emotions too ensnarled to untangle at the moment. She picked at a stitch on the blanket over her lap.

"Trust is a fragile thing," Dane murmured. He deposited the vial of poison back into his satchel. "Hitomi, are we friends?"

She sized Dane up, the same as when she had met him days, no, a lifetime ago. His face was guarded but optimistic. The illumination from a gadget, something reminiscent of an ostentatious Faberge egg, subverted the waning sunlight fading from the window. In the machine's artificial glow, the freckles spangling Dane's face were almost orange. _If you believe in people, they believe in you,_ Grandma Yuri had said.

Hitomi delicately clasped his hand, which was still ruddy from healing. "We are. I haven't known you for long, but I do trust you."

Encouraged, he added, "I promise the only people I've told are the king and you. I won't tell another soul. Um, unless there's someone you want me to-"

"No." She shook her head and pressed his hand for emphasis. "If we're going to catch the culprit, I don't think involving a large number of people will help us do that."

"Oh, dear. You might be right. Ah, so, it's just King Van, you, and me? Super detectives?" he joked halfheartedly. He freed his hand. "How're we going to do this?"

Hitomi blew her fringe out of her eyes. "No ideas yet. We'll have to think of something. Until then, you and I should watch over Van. I'll visit him tonight and teach him how to see the poison, just like I do."

Dane fidgeted, the chair creaking. "About that visit, Hitomi - it might not happen for a while."

"Why?" she asked.

"King Van's kind of on lockdown. I wouldn't be allowed to see him myself if not for my healing ability. He has guards at his doors, generals in his sitting room, and a really scary advisor who might try to eat you if you get too close."

Her eyebrows knitted together, creasing her forehead stubbornly. "Trigornia doesn't scare me."

"Oh, dear," Dane peeped. "I think he should."

An insistent knocking brought their discussion to a close. Dane hopped to his feet, eluding any further questions from Hitomi, and danced to the door. He admitted in a plump, female servant in a smart uniform and two brawny lads carrying a brass tub. Its polished metal sides curved into an oval. The boys heaved the item into the room, ducked back through the doorway, and reentered with steaming buckets of water.

The matronly woman crossed her arms, her brunette hair in a tight, immaculate bun. "Good evening. The King's Voice, Sir Trigornia, heard from Doctor Varys about the Lady Hitomi being awake. He thought she might like to freshen up."

"No, I don't-" Hitomi began, but Dane shushed her.

"Good idea!" he hurriedly agreed.

The middle-aged woman arched her thin brows at him meaningfully. Suddenly desperate to go, Dane called to Hitomi, "I'll check on you tomorrow. Have a pleasant, er, evening!"

As the healer fled, the woman marched over to Hitomi's bedside. Her eyes iced over the Mystic Moonling's unkempt state. "Lady Hitomi, I am the head housekeeper of the East Wing, Berta. I will help you to bathe."

"Please, I can do it myself," Hitomi protested, vexed by the interruption.

Berta's nose wrinkled disdainfully, and Hitomi abruptly realized just how unpleasant her breath must be. The housekeeper scowled disapprovingly at her, as rigid as a broom handle. Hitomi resisted the urge to cover her face with the blanket and hide.

"That is…ah, thank you," she submissively consented. Berta unbuttoned her uniform's sleeves and scrunched them up around her well-muscled elbows. Jittery, Hitomi mumbled a Japanese saying of assent. "Please t-treat me k-kindly."

"""""""

After Berta scrubbed Hitomi raw and combed out her damp hair, the housekeeper dressed her in yet another cream nightgown trimmed with lace at the collar and hem. It had matching undergarments with petite, girly bows. Berta then fetched a tray of beef and potato stew, a wedge of nutty cheese, a slice of buttered bread, and a mug of honeyed milk. Hitomi wolfed down the meal, and the housekeeper refilled her pitcher with more water. As she was leaving, Berta politely inquired if Hitomi would require anything else for the evening. Undaunted by Dane's earlier warning, Hitomi asked for an audience with Van. The housekeeper apologized for the inconvenience, but the king was unavailable that evening. She would pass Lady Hitomi's request along to Sir Trigornia though. Sighing, Hitomi instead entreated Berta for some reading material, anything about Gaea.

An hour later, a maid delivered a stack of tomes from the castle library. In the middle of cleaning her teeth, Hitomi spat out her thanks and gestured for the girl to place them on the table. While she sponged her mouth on a towel over a washbasin, the maid emptied the chamber pot and switched on a second larger sunlamp. These synthetic lanterns, like squat, crystalline cockroaches, seemed to be Gaea's equivalent to florescent lights. Unfamiliar with this technology, Hitomi questioned the maid about it. The teenager stumbled over an explanation about how the machines charged with sunlight during the day and released radiance and heat at night. Before Hitomi could press her for more information, the maid curtsied, shrilled about Berta expecting her, and dove through the door.

 _Everyone's in such a hurry to leave me alone_ , Hitomi griped. _If I didn't have a reputation before, I certainly do now._

When twilight succumbed to evening, Hitomi tested her legs and explored her guestroom. She wobbled on her feet and caught herself on the upholstered chair by her bed. Berta had slung a silken, jade-green robe across its back. Staggering, Hitomi grabbed the robe and thrusted her hands through the kimono sleeves, marveling fleetingly at its embroidered hummingbirds. She knotted the belt at her waist and searched out two fur-lined slippers that she crammed her cold toes into.

Like a baby taking its first steps, Hitomi toddled across the room. It was a modest sized abode with a hefty, cherry-wood bed; a chair and table; an armoire carved with delicate birds; a writing desk with a quill and ink; a bookcase with curious knickknacks; and a singular large window. Curious, she walked over to the wall with its beautifully woven tapestry of the two moons. She did so a little too fast. Everything twirled in a merry-go-round of pigments, and she gulped back the meal she had just eaten. Once the motion sickness passed, she propelled the heavy hanging aside and exposed the closet area Varys had raided earlier. Inside of it were linens, blankets, pillows, cleaning supplies, and a bag with gray yerkle hair on it.

Hitomi's mouth formed an "o" of wonder. Just as in the past, her belongings had a way of following her. She seized her backpack, dumped it out across her mattress, and sorted through what remained there. Gone were her black and white sneakers, her last pair of jeans, the Sailor Moon shirt, and even her set of pajamas. From now on, she must scrounge up Gaean clothes that would suit her. She at least still had her prized running shoes and the precious framed photographs of her family and friends. She propped them up on the bookcase between a ceramic unicorn with a spear-like horn and a wind-up clock adorned with plump cupids.

The college textbooks and emergency kit she put aside, intending to give them to Dane. Her Earth hairbrush, toothbrush, and toothpaste she set by the wash basin, mirroring the Fanelian styled accoutrements already there. The rope and flashlight she kept in the backpack. Her hand brushed against an inside pocket, tingling. She unzipped it and reclaimed her deck of tarot cards in their strip of cloth. These she affectionately held to her forehead, grateful for their presence, and stashed in the drawer of the writing desk. After stowing the backpack beneath her bed, she cracked open the top most book from the maid's stack, an atlas in curlicue penmanship with hand-drawn pictures, and read in bed.

Hours later, the clock on the bookcase belled one in the morning, rung by the blond, rotating cherubs. Yawning, Hitomi closed the front of the atlas. So far, she had studied the geography of Fanelia and its surrounding countries: Daedalus to the north, Asturia to the east, and Freid which lay due south. A succinct history of each country accompanied the maps. It was insightful but dull material. She rubbed an eye with her knuckles. There was still much for her to learn about Gaea.

Deciding it was late enough, and therefore safe enough, for her to sneak out of her guestroom, Hitomi crept to her door, flashlight in hand. She twisted the latch of its handle, noting the bolt which locked it in case of future need, and the door squealed open. She stuck her head out, peering up and down the abandoned hallway. With her psychic eye, she scanned the area for another living soul, but only a sepia vision of a night guard napping on duty echoed in return. She flicked on the gadget's button and trotted off to the left of the hall.

As Hitomi traveled, the orange beam alighted on ornamental suits of samurai armor, braided draperies, lofty windows with beveled edges and stained glass shards, and flaming torches in sconces. Sometimes, a frigid gust of air whooshed up her nightgown, chilling her bare ankles. She dowsed her way through the drafty passages of the castle, simultaneously awed and ignorant of its terrain. It was quiet aside from the pad of her slippers and the ghostly echoes of noise far off, some liquid dripping, indecipherable voices. Once, a guard, grumpy from the late vigil, strode by her, and she stooped behind one of those musty armor dolls to avoid him. After he went by, she hastened her pace up a snaking helix of a staircase and down a memorable corridor of angular windows. These receded and the throngs of dense, forbidding doors began.

She peeked around the corner where two halls intersected, and at the end of one was the gargantuan door leading to the royal chambers. As before, a trio of guards stalked the area outside of it, their armor clanking, their conversation about some upcoming festival. Hitomi nibbled on her lip, pondering how to distract them and get in. When a ham-hock hand latched around her forearm and spun her around, she gawked in surprise. The ray of the flashlight revealed the hand's owner squinting down at her.

Because this was Gaea, a giant with bulging muscles stood before her. He had scraggly, strawberry-blond hair and a messy, braided beard. His eyes were a clear sapphire, embedded deep in a mulish head. The axes strapped across his back and hip made Aldric's sword resemble a toothpick. He wore a brown tunic in the traditional loose Fanelian style and a bandolier of oddities across his king-sized chest. Scabby breeches encased a pair of tree stump legs, and mud crusted his boots. He maintained eye contact with her, his arms akimbo, the biceps protruding like a blacksmith's anvils.

"An' what do ye want?" he barked.

With her eyes saucer-like, she squeaked, "V-Van."

The goliath snorted at her. "Aye, ye and everyone else. I know ye. Yer the witch that nigh blinded us all, same as now."

"I-I'm sorry." She lowered the flashlight, its carroty radiance on their feet. "It wasn't on purpose, not then or now."

He grunted. "An' suppose jumpin' on top the Dragon King wasn't on purpose either?"

Hitomi managed to shake her head in response.

"Bah!" the colossus snuffled. "Tis an odd hour to be seein' anyone, 'specially in yer night garments."

"I-I know. I've asked to see Van, er, the king. No one will let me, so I was trying to do it on my own. I just want to be sure he's all right." Her intuition told her the giant was generally a sensible, mellow fellow. She prayed her honesty would be enough to pacify him now.

"The King's Voice don't want visitors. Says the Dragon King has other pressin' matters to attend. I'd say sleepin' bein' one." His baritone rumbled over her.

She hung her head at the undisguised rebuke. It had been foolish of her to try to steal in as if she were a ninja.

Unexpectedly, the giant snickered. "Was never much for Trigornia meself. Man prances round as if t'were his castle."

Hitomi blinked a few times in disbelief.

"See, I think ye've a right to the king, bein' as ye and yer mate called him back from the dead." The man plucked at his beard.

Hope flowered in her. "Please, let me see him. I just need a moment or-"

"S'easy enough."

"W-Wait." Her temples throbbed, the confusion of this conversation giving her a mild headache. "You're agreeing to help me?"

"Suppose so."

"What about the guards?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Bein' a general, I'll tell them louts to shove off."

Hitomi swallowed. _Another of Van's generals. I keep meeting them in the oddest ways_ , she thought, frazzled.

"A-And Trigornia?"

"Old man can go-" The expletive after that suggested a not so noble activity that the aristocrat should pursue.

"O-Okay. Thank you. What's your name?"

He grinned at her, his teeth crooked. "Torg Fireeater, Tusk Army."

"I'm Hitomi." She offered him her hand. "Hitomi Kanzaki."

"Aye. The girl from the Mystic Moon." The giant's hand engulfed her own. He pumped her arm up and down gently.

She wiggled her fingers to restore the feeling to them. "I still don't understand why you're helping me so easily."

"Simple, m'lady." He cocked his head. "Would ya cross worlds to rescue King Van if'n ya meant him harm later? Don't think so, an' whoever does is stupid. Way courtiers an' the likes think with their intrigues and politics. Not me. So, if yer talk's short, I'll leave ye be."

Overwhelmed with Torg's straightforwardness, Hitomi could only thank him again. He dismissed her politeness with a wink and directed her over to the guards. This near to the general, Hitomi smelt machine oil and sweat on him. As they approached, the three men readied their weapons, firelight glittering across metal from a sconce. Sighting Torg Fireeater, they straightened and puffed out their chests. Of course, none of them could compete with the goliath's height and bulk, but that didn't mean they didn't want to nonetheless.

 _Men_ , she groaned exasperatedly.

Torg saluted the guards offhandedly, all companionable and laid-back. He blabbed on about the niceties, how their families were, how fine a night it was, and if they had plans for the festival. Being within reach of her goal, Hitomi's eagerness made her edgy and ill tempered. Unconsciously, her foot tapped on the stone, the toes of her fur slipper rhythmic. The guards graced her with scathing appraisals, expressing their dislike of her impatience and the impropriety of her garb. As the general and guards chatted, she contemplated simply barging through that titanic door, at least until Torg dropped the bomb about her unforeseen social call.

She assumed that the guards would refuse her entry, but once Torg swore that Trigornia would never be the wiser and that he'd treat them to ale at a tavern, they chortled and agreed. Torg ushered Hitomi by the guards as they back slapped him and heehawed. The general shouldered the enormous door aside as if it were poster board, and they ambled into the velvet-cushioned, sumptuously furnished sitting room. Still off-guard, Hitomi gaped idiotically at the easygoing, snake-charming general and the grandeur of the outer royal chambers.

"Hello, Torg," greeted an athletically built woman from a duvet. Her skin was the color of coffee-cream, and she had wound her ebony dreadlocks into a braid. Her dark eyes never left the book in her hands. Gold leaf glimmered on its title and along its spine. "I see you brought the Mystic Moonling."

"Lady's Hitomi. Hitomi, that's Melusine Dinair." Unperturbed, the giant stamped over to a low table congested with festively packaged parcels, intricately penned letters, looping, bright ribbons, and all manner of fancy foods. There were pear-shaped piscus, a cooled blueberry pie, aromatic flowers in a vase, a chocolate sculpture of a dragon, and a solid silver tureen of what must be soup. Wandering over to the impressive rearing dragon, Torg broke off a wing, smelt it, and then munched on the sweet.

"Pleased to m-meet you," Hitomi stuttered around the incredulity of it all. The pain in her temples was a drumming now. She really didn't understand anything that was happening.

The woman, Melusine, said, "Since this sop forgot to mention it, let me add I'm the General of Fanelia's Claw Army."

"O-Oh."

"Who sent this?" Torg motioned to the dragon through mouthfuls of wing. "S'real good. Best I've eatin' yet."

Melusine scratched her left nostril, the one pierced by a tiny hoop. Her reading never ceased. "I believe it was one of the Basram ladies."

"Mm. Prob'ly that prime minister's daughter. She's a good eye for sweets," Torg praised and devoured the other wing. "S'one that sent Lord Van them candied grapes."

"All of which you ate, you swine," Melusine coolly taunted.

Torg tore off the dragon's tail. "Time t'switch shifts."

"She shouldn't be here." The woman raised the book up closer to her nose. "Sir Trigornia will be most displeased."

"Fuck the codger. Lady wants to see His Majesty. Figured she's more of a right than anyone."

"And do all people from the Mystic Moon pay visits while in their night garments in the wee hours of the morning?" One of Melusine's eyebrows curved up in what could either be amusement or skepticism.

All Hitomi could do was blush.

Torg beamed rakishly. "Rather like it meself."

"I'm sure you do," the female general said.

"King Van sleepin'?"

Melusine flipped a page. It scuffled like crisp foliage. "Not when Lady Merle checked on him half an hour ago before going to bed herself. He's restless tonight."

"Aye. Off ya go, lil one." Torg shooed Hitomi to an adjoining door. "He's through there. Don't stay t'long."

"Pardon me, girl from the Mystic Moon," the second general glanced briefly up from her book. "Normally, I would depart at my shift's end, but to assure Trigornia later of His Highness's safety, I shall remain. Regardless of what this buffoon thinks, the King's Voice will surely hear about this visit later. The presence of two generals should ease his mind more so than one."

Hitomi nodded. "Of course."

"Enjoy. You've earned a visit, particularly in that prim getup." Melusine burrowed her nose once more in her book.

Torg clomped over to the duvet and plomped his hulk down beside Melusine. The legs of her side rose off the carpet and back down as the red-haired titan shifted around, scavenging the chocolate dragon in his lap. She swatted his bicep in annoyance and snapped off a dragon's paw for herself in retaliation. They both ignored Hitomi.

 _Gaea is full of such eccentric people. I'd forgotten about that_ , she observed disbelievingly. The headache, along with Van's whimsical generals, made her skittish. It all was going so smoothly, so trouble-free. No, there _must_ be some complication. She just didn't know what.

Hitomi almost tiptoed across the carpets, so certain she was of being detained last minute by the generals. When she was outside the door leading to Van's bed chamber and nothing happened, she considered that, perhaps, the generals were serious about letting her speak to the king. She outstretched her fist to rap on the door but stopped. Illumination spilt through a space at its base. She heard a shuffling of papers and a very tired, very male sigh from the other side.

 _Van's awake. The generals are letting me go to him. So, no reason to hesitate_ , she told herself. Except, of course, that she was nervous and suddenly unsure of what to say or do.

Steeling herself against her cowardice, Hitomi softly thumped her knuckles on the wood. He answered straightaway, his tone recognizable but alien, permitting the knocker entry. His voice was a deeper tenor now, brimming with rich intonation. It bespoke of his passionate nature, something she bet hadn't changed, but with an undertone of clarity and poise she couldn't recollect the old Van possessing.

Listening to the grown-up Van, the stranger, made her peculiarly sad and timorous. Still, she must go to him. She yearned to. Breathing in, Hitomi yanked on the doorknob and let herself into the king's bedroom.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

Well, as I promised, Hitomi made her way to visit Van in the flesh…sort of. Anyone else notice that as they write the characters just take on a life of their own? I mean, I had this detailed outline for this chapter, and then all the characters were like, "Oh, you want us to do _that?_ Pssh! Well, we're going to do _this_." I tried to get them to cooperate, even bribed them with coffee and chocolate, but nothing worked. When I reminded them that my reputation as a writer was on the line from that last teaser, they yielded just a little, just enough to get Hitomi to Van's door.

Speaking of which, at least we found out why Van was so sick, poor dear! And Dane's hands are all better. Yay! Is it just me, or is this Trigornia fellow a bit…controlling? Oh, and I hope that you enjoyed getting to know Torg and Melusine better. I find those two together to be quite entertaining. : D

A big hug to Nofreakingway, since she was generous enough to give me feedback on this chapter. I also apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Self-editing was slow this time around. There was a death in my family and it took away a good portion of my focus and drive.

Furthermore, please also forgive me for not being as detailed in my "shout outs" as I usually am. There's been so much happening, and it's left me a tad scattered and worn. Just know that all of your reviews, faves, and kind words have helped to brighten an otherwise difficult time. As always, I thank you all for sticking around for another chapter!

Next up: Van and Hitomi, face-to-face!


	13. Chapter 13

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Thirteen"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: Here is the latter half of that long, long chapter that turned into two. I'm glad I was able to post it soon after Ch.12.

A big hug to Mystical-Grace for her input on this chapter and helping me to shape up the physical interactions and keep everyone in character.

Edited: 11/6/2017. I fixed some of Van's potty mouth and reworded a couple descriptions. After re-watching some episodes and reading feedback, I decided Van-sama was a bit too aggressive and curse-happy. I'm pleased with this last round of editing and hope you all will be also.

Thanks to Banryuu for pointing out the misspelling of King Goau's name. Unfortunately, I just realized I've been doing that throughout my story. (Oops.) Since I'm lazy, and for the sake of cohesion, I'll keep it as is for now. (Later I might have more energy to go back through and fix the earlier chapters, lol.)

"""""""

Hitomi entered the bedchamber from her visions. She'd been here once before, but during Shadow's attack, she hadn't paid much attention. As one would assume of accommodations for royalty, the room was spacious and soaring, almost cave-like. Sunlamps, jingling with crystals, dripped frosty illumination into the room from the ceiling. It bounced off of the marble walls, these etched with carvings of dragons and samurai. Furniture of ebon wood set scattered across the chamber: a writing desk overrun with tubes of parchment, quills and ink bottles, and stacks of loose-leaf papers; a towering armoire and a table with the remainders of a meal on it; armed, high-backed chairs with matching cushions; a rotund nightstand with a diminutive sunlamp; and, naturally, the gargantuan bed.

In the past, she had seen King Goua in this mammoth piece of furniture, in this exact room. After Van had saved her from hurtling into an abyss and revealed his wings, one of his feathers had drifted into her hands. The psychic memories imprinted on it had transported her into a vision of Van's origins. She had witnessed the meeting of Goua of Fanelia and Varie of the Draconians, the disapproval of their marriage, the birth of Van, and the death of the former king. The man had passed away from a mysterious illness when his youngest son was only five.

The similarity of Van's situation to his father's was undeniable, and the fact that he currently occupied the same room was downright eerie.

Hitomi silently walked to this bed. It sat on a dais with a plush spread of carpet on the stone floor around it. A dark headboard, engraved with forest creatures and winding trees, loomed over the mattress, which was wide enough for two Torg-sized sleepers. Beneath the cerise wall hanging of a white serpent, the sole occupant of the bed leaned back against the headboard. He nested in a jumble of brocade and feather-down pillows, silken linens, and woven blankets. Most of it the king had amassed to the side in a forlorn mountain. An especially lengthy roll of parchment, which zigzagged across his lap and covers, preoccupied his attention.

While he was absorbed by his reading material, Hitomi climbed up the dais and hovered beside his bed. She noted his healthy pallor, how his cheeks were less hollow, and that his eyes were no longer sunken. He was much improved as Dane had reported, not the ashen, withered being from days ago. After a few more hearty meals and sessions with the healer, he should regain his normal weight and strength.

Certain of his recovery now, Hitomi appraised the king, comparing his current self to her recollection of him as a teen. The plain, cotton nightshirt he wore did little to hide his physique. Its unlaced collar and plunging neckline teased her with a view of swarthy skin and hairless pectorals. Although still slender and compact, he had filled out nicely in adulthood, with wider shoulders, a brawler's tough chest, and a sword master's tapered abdomen and hips. His legs, concealed by the sheets, she knew would be just as sinewy as his arms. Obviously, he had kept up his sword and combat training; all of which had molded his musculature exquisitely.

It was Van, but not the Van she had known. He was like one of those ancient Roman statues in the museums that idealized male beauty, only without the missing body parts. Amused by that analogy, Hitomi's lips twitched up.

As if sensing her change of mood, Van lifted his raven wing's head, his locks in glossy spikes. His hair feathered over his creased brow and cheeks, and it was longish in the back, similar in style to how Folken Fanel's had been when he was still a prince. Her eyes alighted on the sword blade of the king's nose, following it down to the jut of his obstinate chin. His sensuous lips, the bottom fuller than the top, opened. Some nameless, tempestuous expression sped across his face, a spasm, a rawness.

His black eyebrows flew up. "H-Hitomi?"

"Van," she said.

For her, the years dropped away. Gone was the anguish of separation and the uncertainty of his muteness. Psychically, she reached out to him with joy, to instinctually savor his essence, to breach his mind. And encountered…nothing. There was no wall, no hint of a connection to him. Their link, that oddly forged soul-bond, was gone, as if it had never been. The disappointment struck her like a wrecking ball, a knock to the gut. Her grief from its loss caused her eyes to brim with moisture.

"Did I fall asleep while reading?" he wondered aloud, his voice that resonating, lower timbre. "Is this a dream?"

She blinked away the unexpected tears and forced a smile. "No, this is real. I'm here."

"But, the healer, Dane, said that you were resting when he came by this evening." Van released the parchment, disbelieving.

"I was. Sort of." She crossed her arms, tucking her hands into the kimono sleeves of her dressing robe. Despite a huge hearth heating the bedchamber with a radiant fire, she was chilled.

"And Trigornia has warned away visitors. He's stationed guards and-"

"Your generals," she concluded for him. She got the impression that he wasn't too pleased to see her, and it saddened her. "Torg and Melusine. When I asked, they let me come to you."

His eyebrows crinkled together over his nose. "I'll have to address that."

"Don't be angry with them," she rushed to protect the generals. "They were doing it to be kind. I think it was their way of trying to show their appreciation for you…you…"

"Being alive," he finished petulantly.

"Yes."

"It's late."

"I know. They told me not to stay too long, and I won't. But, there are things we need to discuss."

"Like what?" He grabbed the parchment and chucked it irately across the room. It landed on the stones, lying like an uncoiled, dead snake. "That I died? That I was in hell? That some gods damn… _something_ …destroyed me so effortlessly?"

She quivered at his fury but refused to back away from him.

"Or how some…I don't know, _thing_ …toyed with me, toyed with us, and I couldn't stop it? And you, with your hobby for saving others, threw me back into life and stayed behind to take the abuse!"

 _He's still the most talkative when he's mad_ , she thought. At least that hadn't changed about him.

"Van-" she began, but he interrupted her.

"I didn't want your help!" He raked a hand through his unruly hair in agitation. Clumps flopped back down into his crackling, russet eyes. "Not back then and not now. You should've stayed on the Mystic Moon!"

A single tear dribbled like rain down her cheek into her mouth. It was salty. "H-How could I?" she whispered, hiccupping. "You were dying! I had to do something."

He bared his teeth, pearly against his tan complexion. "You've been gone for five years! Why the hells should you care about me, about any of this, now? Go back! Live your happy life. Isn't that what you always wanted? Go be normal and sheltered and safe on your world. You aren't here! You never were."

"That's not important! I-"

His lips pulled back from his teeth. He almost hissed at her. " _I don't want you here_."

On impulse, she flattened her hand, stalked forward, and struck it across his cheek. The sound of it, a sickening _whap_ , reverberated through the chamber. A raised, red mark appeared across his face. Her own hand smarted from the impact, tingling. More liquid drizzled from her eyes, dampening the collar of her nightgown.

"I remember this," he said bitterly. "You always did like hitting others."

Through her despair, her own temper flared. "Only if they deserve it!"

"You're a sadist," he snorted.

"You're an ass!"

He turned away from her, his eyelashes midnight crescents masking his eyes. In a gravelly tone, he asked, "Why're you here?"

"Because of you!" she yelled. She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Because I saw a vision of you after years of silence! Because you disappeared and I never knew _why_! Because I saw this nightmarish creature hurting you!"

For several moments, Van and Hitomi were silent. She glared at him, her eyes like serrated green shards, and he stared out a tall window with a copious amount of curtains. Their reunion was nothing like she had hoped for, not this argument, not this distance between them. She felt childish and powerless in her slippers and the prissy night attire. As for the king, the vein throbbing in his neck and the tight set of his jaw attested to his own turmoil. He was as immobile as the chalky stone of his castle. As the minutes passed, he persistently avoided meeting her eyes, and she wouldn't leave.

 _This must be the complication I was waiting for_ , she thought miserably. _I didn't expect it to be him._

At last, the king asked in a less aggressive tone, "Have you recovered from your ordeal in that…other place?"

"Mostly. Dane healed me, too." She fiddled with the fleshy bow of her sash. When had his room gotten so unbearably small and stuffy?

"Good. Then you can return soon."

She reared over him and exploded, "Why're you so desperate to be rid of me?"

"Why're you so desperate to stay?" he countered.

"I have reasons! There are dangers here that I-"

"That's why you need to go back-"

"No! I want to stay!"

"You can't! Go home!"

She stamped her foot in annoyance. "You can't order me around! You may be a king, but to me you're still just a hotheaded, ungrateful-"

He tore his eyes from the window, stormy with anxiety, and shouted at her, "Hitomi, you're not safe here!"

She halted in her tirade, taken aback by the use of her name and the intensity of his outburst. Her intuition tinkled like harp strings, telling her of his honesty and of a wellspring of hidden, intermingling sentiments inside of him.

"And I can't protect you," he said morosely. His hair drooped completely over his eyes, casting them into shadow. His face was slim, devoid of its former roundness. In that particular position, in the starkness of the artificial light, Van reminded her of his brother, the handsome but gloomy Strategos.

"Who says I need you to?" Hitomi scoffed. She tucked a wayward strand of her honey-colored hair behind her ear. "I'm no damsel in distress from a fairy tale."

"Aren't you? You come from another world and use the power of the stars." He cradled his inflamed, puffy cheek with a hand.

"I'm just a normal person. I'm not a princess or enchantress, and I don't need, or want, special treatment."

He shrugged, dropping his hand from his cheek, "On Gaea, your powers are right out of our legends. These days you're something of one yourself."

"Where I'm from, you're the supernatural one," she argued. "You're the angel."

"You mean a demon. Draconians are supposed to be harbingers of destruction." Van constricted his hand into a fist and pounded it into a nearby pillow with gold tassels. "Not even that helped me against whatever that monster was."

Hitomi quietly said, "It calls itself Shadow. It's a true Demon, not you."

"All I know is it was…immense." He shuddered. "And I couldn't save you."

"No one asked you to." After the words came out, she remembered a similar mental conversation the two had had during the Great Gaean War. She had prevented Van's guymelf, Escaflowne, from crushing the pilot chamber of Allen's Scheherazade. In doing so, she had linked telepathically to Van, and thus, their now absent bond had been born.

"True. No one ever asked you to help me either. It just happened, didn't it?" He gave her a prickly smile. "As for myself, well, I always did what I wanted to do."

Her heart thumped. She had learned as much in the past. As a teen, he had fought so fiercely because he had so desired. Because of duty. Because of revenge. Because of love.

"Van, it's the same for me, both in the past and in the present." She picked her words prudently, threading them together with what scraps of composure she had. "If I help you, it's because I want to. I'm not doing it to be a martyr or because I expect anything in return."

He frowned and shifted on the mattress.

"I'm here, because I want to be."

"Why?" he scowled. "It's not a simple matter to cross realities. There's got to be more to it than just taking a holiday in Fanelia."

Gathering her courage, she traversed the remaining space between them. Her legs pressed against the side of the bed. "I wanted to see you again."

Van regarded her, his eyes clouded, his countenance haunted. "Ah, yes, to relive our illustrious past. One war didn't fuck you up enough? You chose a good time to come back then. There's obviously something brewing on Gaea now. I'm sure it'll excite you, reliving all that danger alongside of old comrades."

"Comrades? That sounds so formal." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

The king's mouth twisted. "Or do you prefer traveling companions?"

"We were friends."

"Were we?" he whispered, a shimmer of wetness in his eyes. He rested an arm, its bicep like living rock, on a bent knee. The sheet dipped low on his hips.

When he was like this, Van resembled the teenager he had been. Her memory of his boyhood overlapped with the austerity of his manhood. Her fingers itched to stroke the peppery stubble along his jawline, to push his forelocks back.

"We still are," she insisted, both to reassure Van as much as herself. If she couldn't claim at least this much of a relationship with him, then there would be absolutely nothing between them anymore. The idea of that alone stabbed her already unsettled heart.

Van barked a sour laugh, abruptly banishing the vulnerability from his face. "Even you can't be naïve enough to deny the passage of time! Look at us. You don't know me, and I don't know you."

"That doesn't matter. We can…can learn about one another again."

"Don't be stupid!" he snapped. "We're _different_ people from _different_ worlds with very _different_ lives."

Hitomi ground her teeth together and counted to ten, praying for patience. "Sometimes people's differences make for better friendships."

"Can't you understand? I'm not who I was!" he lashed out. He had the mien of a hunted, wounded wolf.

"I'd argue otherwise!" she retorted defensively, arms akimbo. "You're still pigheaded and immature!"

"You may like dredging up all that shit from years ago, but I don't!"

"Stop playing these games!" The back and forth between cool aloofness and fiery temper had confused and abraded her enough. She stabbed her pointer finger into his chest through the nightshirt, emphasizing each word of the next sentence with a subsequent poke. " _I. Am. Your. Friend._ "

"No, Hitomi, you're not." He took a ragged breath. Suddenly, the hand on his knee shot out, tangled in her short hair, and yanked her to him.

Crying out from the sting of her scalp, she doubled over at the waist, unable to deny him as he propelled her nearer. Her hands automatically splayed on the mattress to keep her upright. Van's head zoomed in unnervingly close to her own. When they were nose to nose, her focus sharpened, taking in the tilt of his eyes, the glint of ruby studs in his pierced earlobes, and the almost bestial snarl of his mouth. His eyes lingered on her lips as they parted in pain. He shuddered and shut his eyes, the lashes downy on his cheeks. With another unrelenting jerk of her hair, he angled her jaw the way he wanted it and fit his mouth angrily across hers.

Surprised by the swiftness of his actions, Hitomi froze. His lips forcefully sealed her own, clumsy, furious. The pressure of the kiss scraped the delicate inner tissue of her mouth against her teeth. She felt the prickle of broken skin and tasted the metallic tang of blood. This woke her up. She tried to speak, but Van muffled the noise, effectively cutting off her air. She strained backwards and shook her head, seeking to liberate herself. His powerful fingers burrowed further into her mane and secured the back of her head, pinning her mouth to his. The king's other arm, the left one, latched onto her right wrist, anchoring her to the bed.

With sickening exhilaration, she understood there would be no escape from this.

He switched the slant of the kiss, and their front teeth clinked together bruisingly. Once more she protested. This time Van seized the opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue. The appendage filled her, tasting of chai tea, cinnamon, and him. She inhaled through her nostrils, smelling his woodsy scent and mowed hay, but it wasn't a big enough breath to feed her starved lungs. The lack of oxygen made her dizzy and stole some of the energy from her. Soon, she discovered that if she stopped fighting, Van allowed her to breathe more easily through her nose.

Purposely, she relaxed her frame, although her arms shivered in fear, her back complained from the awkward angle, and her knees bumped against the mattress. In response to the tension draining from her body, Van's kiss slowed, gentled. His lips became supple and sweet like honeycomb. They explored the shape of hers, beckoning. His tongue shyly traced her own, sliding up one side and down the other. He slicked it across the roof of her mouth, and after a brief hesitation, he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. Tenderly, he nipped it with his teeth.

Hitomi gasped, her knees shaking. They threatened to buckle as he suckled on her lip. Van's kiss was incredibly different from anything she had ever experienced before and a far cry from the imaginings of a fifteen-year-old. It lacked the refined, artistic approach of Allen's, and it was more arduous than any investigative peck from the guys on Earth.

No, this kiss short-circuited sanity and mocked logic. Goosebumps popped up along her arms and chest, and not from the cold. Something jangled through her nerves, a ring of truth, a jolt of electricity. Her heart beat madly, the sound of the blood coursing through her ears overwhelming. A tempest of emotions warred within her for dominance: bewilderment, alarm, excitement, and love. If she had trouble breathing before, it was damn near impossible to do so now.

With a moan, her mouth flowered for him, welcoming. She heard Van groan his approval. His thumb caressed across her wrist. Tentatively, Hitomi mimicked his oral ministrations, her tongue twining with his, her lips clinging. This kiss was moist and deep, drawing her further onto the bed, magnetizing. She knelt with one knee on the mattress, tempted to recline next to the king. Muzzily, she realized Van's fingers no longer bit into the back of her head. Instead, they massaged her scalp, threading through strands of her hair, a lover's touch.

The hand on her right arm grew bold, the fingers trailing up and down along the sensitive skin of her forearm and elbow. She purred into Van's mouth, lost in the headiness of his kiss. His left hand paused on her elbow, debating. Then very carefully, very deliberately, it skimmed across the front of her robe, edged the fabric aside, and enclosed the globe of her breast through the nightgown. Hitomi choked at the startling intimacy, her bosom rising in indignation. He cupped his hand firmly over the roundness of her breast.

Somehow, Hitomi wrenched herself away from Van. He freed her immediately, his hands empty and fisted. She reeled backwards, her foot catching on the hem of her robe. Her arms flapped stupidly. Having totally lost her balance, she tripped over her own feet and wound up on her butt. She skidded down the steps of the dais on her posterior. Her skirts rode up mortifyingly around her thighs, flashing the pink bowed panties at the king.

"O-Ow." She rubbed the backs of her legs where the carpet had given them rug burn.

Van glowered down at her from the bed, his eyes like burnt sienna. Desire and frustration darkened them. His sheets lay rumpled across his lap, and the overlarge nightshirt hung sideways off one shoulder. His bangs were spiked up, as if someone had been running their hands through his hair. He clenched his teeth together. The tendon in his throat pulsed noticeably. His gaze sluiced down to her nether region and all that her tumble had uncovered.

Horrified, Hitomi quickly shoved the folds of her robe and nightgown down, the fabric swishing. Her face and neck reddened in maidenly distress. She stumbled to her feet without one slipper. She located it a meter away, lying on its side. Aware of the king's scrutiny, she rammed her foot into the felonious slipper, arranged her robe, and smoothed her rumpled skirts. A bead of sweat seeped down her forehead.

"V-Van," she started. She flushed in embarrassment. She was so hot. Her hand went reflexively, nervously, to pat down the hairs sticking up on her crown.

The king straightened, his body a taunt line. His hands balled the sheet between them. When he spoke, his voice was cruel and exacting. "Get out."

"W-Wait." Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes large. "What was-"

"Get out!" he roared.

She paled and backed up, stunned by his violent outburst. He bellowed for the generals, who materialized in the room mere seconds later, their boots somehow soft on the stone. Melusine and Torg, sans book and chocolate, bowed to their liege. They kept their heads down in submission, conscious of their king's displeasure.

"Dinair, take Hitomi back to her room," Van rasped, his breathing hard. "Post a guard there. Don't let her leave."

Squinting his blue eyes up at the king, Torg rumbled an objection. "The lady ain't a criminal, Yer Majesty."

"Are you questioning my command, Fireeater?" Van thundered back menacingly, his shoulders hunched as stubbornly as an ox's.

"Er…no." Torg glanced apologetically at Hitomi. On an afterthought, he added, "Yer Lordship."

"As you wish, Highness," the female general answered. She promptly stood and put an arm around Hitomi's shoulders. "Come along."

Hitomi, betrayed and astonished, gulped back fresh tears. "Please, Van, I have t-to…you don't under-"

"I'll give you two days to gather your strength. No more. After that, I want you gone from my castle and out of my life." He looked away from Hitomi. "Don't ever come back."

Hitomi sobbed at his proclamation. Melusine lightly steered her out of the doorway, through the parlor, and into the hallway. She let herself be towed along, the world around her muddled and gray. Tears flowed unabashedly down her face, funneling off of her chin and collecting on her lashes like stardust. Her lips were swollen from Van's kisses, the insides of her mouth bleeding. Despite his unrelenting demeanor and frigid rejection, she continued to feel the warmth from his hand on her breast.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

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Oh, yes! I delivered my Van and Hitomi moment! ^ _ ^ *insert flash of lightning and archaic Frankenstein laugh * Muwhaha! It only took THIRTEEN chapters! Not a slow pace at all. *sweat drops *

But in all seriousness, I was really worried about writing this chapter. I'm still glancing around corners hoping no fan has a wooden stake they mean to stab me in the heart with. I swear, I was possessed by the story and its evil plot! (Darn you, Beast/Story with the crazy complex plot!) Ah, Van! There must be quite the story to what's going on with you.

I'd also like to recognize the new reviewer from last time: Ioialoha. (Thank you for your kind comment. *hugs *)

Holy-cows-dipped-in-fudge! This story is up to 90 reviews! That makes me super happy. Thank you so much! You're amazing, patient readers to stick with this monstrosity. Please, feel free to let me know what you think! I really enjoy all your comments and feedback. (Thy reward shall be another chapter!) Tah-tah for now!


	14. Chapter 14

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Fourteen"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its original creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: Merle, being the clever feline she is, helps us get some potential answers.

Edited: 11/7/2017

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Merle entered Lord Van's chambers during the changing of the guards, but of the generals, Aldric was the one on duty that morning. He yawned a greeting to her, his brunet hair tousled even in its horsetail. The beard growth on his chin and the raccoon rings beneath his eyes hinted that he was not an early riser. Even his clothes, typically casual but neat, sported creases. He slithered out of the chair he had occupied and stretched his arms over his head, cracking his neck in the process. Only the jade-pommel sword at his hip lent him any current credibility as a warrior.

"Whatever god invented mornings needs to be severely punished by all the others." Aldric massaged his neck and groaned.

Merle teased, "Still waking up, are we?"

"This is a terrible hour," the general complained. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

"Aldric, it's half past eight."

"Waking before noon is insanity!"

The Catgirl rolled her blue eyes. "You're just too lazy."

"Oh, the pain! My poor, ill-treated heart! Your cruel words wound me, Lady Merle!" He gasped, brought both hands over his chest, and screwed his face into a woebegone expression.

Of all the people in the castle, Aldric with his playful humor was one of Merle's favorites. Nonetheless, to keep his ego from inflating further, she wasn't going to tell him that.

Beaming, she removed a ceramic mug of spiced tea from her serving tray. Steam wafted up from the tawny liquid in runic coils. She deposited it onto a table along with a plate of buttered toast, a glazed apple fritter, and cooked eggs with accompanying silverware.

"The kitchen sent up breakfast for whoever was here with Lord Van. Try eating." She nodded at the cup. "That tea should help. It's Cook Astor's own concoction."

Encouraged, Aldric repositioned his chair at the table and sawed into an egg with a fork and knife. "No sausage? A man needs meat! I'll wither away without it."

"Bring it up with Astor." Merle shrugged a shoulder and ambled over to Lord Van's bedroom door. The oval tray, covered by a silver lid, jingled with her footsteps.

"There was some excitement last night," Aldric said slyly around a bite of toast.

Merle's tail slashed through the air as she halted. She whirled back to the general. "What do you mean?"

"Mm. Is there jam? I love jam."

" _Aldric._ "

He gobbled up an end of the fritter and batted his eyes coquettishly at her. "Merle, you need to try this breaded-fruit-thing."

"That's a fritter, idiot," she sighed. "What happened to Lord Van last night?"

"He had a visitor." Aldric dabbed elegantly at his mouth with a napkin.

"How? Trigornia was-"

The general was positively mirthful. " _Enraged._ His whole face was red. Even his mustache. I've never seen anyone turn that color before. It was very striking."

"Who was it?" Merle's tufted ears swiveled back and forth in annoyance.

Aldric glanced sideways at the Catgirl. "Your old friend, our resident Mystic Moonling."

Merle's eyes flashed, the pupils contracting. "Hitomi came?"

"And quite late. Torg gave me the juicy details on the state of her wardrobe. Well, goodness, more like the lack of. Did you know-"

"I'm going to use your face for a scratching post if you don't behave. Believe me, I'll make good use of that stubble you're growing." To emphasize her words, she transferred the tray to one arm and the bulge of her hip and unsheathed the claws of her free hand. They glimmered translucently, half-mooned scythes.

"Fine. Spoil sport." The general pouted as prettily as any princess. "Torg and Mel let Hitomi see King Van. She spoke to him, although we don't know what about. I guess they had a fight. Lots of yelling and then came the bellowed summons from our infamous Dragon. Mel ushered Lady Hitomi back to her room in tears, and Torg received a lecture from the king. Apparently, King Van learned some colorful turns-of-phrase during his boyhood travels."

"I'm not surprised. Back then, we hung around some unsavory Asturian soldiers and a perverted Moleman. You have previous company to thank for that." The Catgirl switched the tray back to both arms. "Someone needs to rein in Torg anyways. He'll get too comfortable with doing whatever he wants otherwise."

"Aren't you just a fur ball of empathy?"

She stuck her pink tongue out at him, tweaked the doorknob, and glided nimbly into the bedchamber. Later, she would thank Aldric for his information. At the moment, she was more concerned about what had transpired between Hitomi and Lord Van.

When Merle let herself in, both the physician, Varys, and the true healer, Dane, attended the king. They clucked and fretted over Lord Van, checking his heart and hypothesizing about his difficulty sleeping. They nattered on about herbal teas and medicinal potions. She couldn't see the monarch over their shoulders, but she heard the tired resignation of his voice in answer to their ministrations.

Dane waved his hands in sweeping motions over Lord Van and then companionably touched the king's wrist. Even from across the room, the Catgirl perceived the air currents altering bizarrely around the two men. A dense, static power saturated them. It shrouded Lord Van and the healer in an invisible bubble. As Varys and she watched, Dane reversed the damage of the prior two weeks, restoring more of Lord Van's vitality, putting fat back on his body, and erasing the corporeal signs of disease.

She wanted to go to Lord Van, but from previous experience, Merle understood it was better for her to stay back. During the initial sessions with Dane, she had hovered warily nearby, supervising the bespectacled healer's proximity to her liege. As those sittings had worn on, her fur had crackled, gone vertical, and finally poofed. Every follicle had fluffed to thrice its regular diameter, even the shorthairs on her triangular face. She had resembled one of the feather dusters the maids sometimes employed around the castle. It had been too embarrassing, particularly when Trigornia and Varys, the stuffiest of Lord Van's servants, had hidden grins.

So, Merle waited for Dane's healing to conclude from a sensible distance. She arranged the table, clearing off the leftovers from the preceding night's dinner and dusting it with a napkin. She swapped the dishes from the tray for the used ones, being careful to keep the lid over the new meal. A maid had already refilled Lord Van's pitcher of drinking water on the table.

Dane, with Varys's backing, had limited Lord Van to simple meals of broth, porridge, and the like. The king never objected, his appetite still only half of what it should be. However, Cook Astor certainly had something to say every time Merle trekked down into the belly of the castle where the kitchens were. A beefy woman with flour on her cheeks, she had brandished a ladle like a sword during her gesticulations and complaints of Lord Van's malnourishment. More than once, Merle thanked the gods that she wasn't a scullery maid or one of the cook's many assistants. _Although being a glorified handmaiden to a moody king isn't much better,_ she admitted to herself.

The eerie atmosphere around Dane and Lord Van dissolved away, and Merle exhaled in relief. Varys and Dane resumed their talk, milling away from the imposing bed. She glimpsed Lord Van, his cheeks rosy, his muscles rippling beneath his swarthy skin. His eyes met hers, darted to the doctors, and then to the breakfast table.

"I've decided to eat at the table today," Lord Van announced. The resolve in his voice masked his fatigue.

Varys arched his bushy eyebrows and glowered down at his patient. "That may not be wise, Sire. While your condition is improving, we don't want you to tire yourself needlessly."

Lord Van glared impressively back. "Crossing a room is hardly a strenuous activity."

"It is given your current condition, Your Highness," retorted the doctor, his eyelid twitching.

"I'm not spending all day in this bed again," the king fumed, scowling.

"We don't want to risk a relapse of your illness. Surely you can see-"

"I'm better than I've been in days. The hells with-"

"I think it's a good idea," Dane chimed in cheerily.

Varys and Lord Van ceased arguing and simultaneously pivoted towards the healer, wide-eyed. The man took his spectacles off and wiped them with a cloth he retrieved from his pants pocket. "It might be good for the king's morale. He'll need assistance, of course, so he doesn't strain himself."

Lord Van smirked, the victor. He shoved bedding aside even as Varys protested and jumped to aid him. The king's movements were precise, determined, and slow. He scooched to the edge of the mattress, maneuvered his legs over the side, and pushed himself up. Merle's ears picked up the creak of his knees and the pop of vertebrae. Varys jogged up the steps of the bed's dais and put an arm around Lord Van's waist to steady his quivering legs. The king clamped his teeth together and set off at a shuffle.

All too aware of her liege's tenacity and the uselessness of quarreling with him, Merle set a place for two at the table and raised the lid from the meal. So far, Cook Astor had adhered to the prescribed menu, but she garnished it to appease her need to feed. There was the usual porridge, bubbling beige, in its porcelain tub. Some additions surrounded it: condiment bowls of honey and sugar; dried berries and apple wedges; side plates of butter and toasted bread; cream in a spouted cup; a pudgy teapot with Astor's infamous brewed tea; and a glass of orange juice. The Catgirl pulled out a chair for the king and herself, glad to have a proper meal with Lord Van after so long without.

The pad of shoe leather behind Merle alerted her to a nearby presence. Her left ear flicked back, tracking the noise. A curly, strawberry-blond head poked over her shoulder, studying the layout of the table with excessive interest.

"That looks good," Dane appraised chirpily. He held a hand, palm up, over the meal.

Lately, the healer always managed to venture near to whatever sustenance Lord Van was brought and make strange gestures over it. Merle thought it beyond odd. What was the man doing, blessing the food and drink for some god? Was it a foreign eating custom where he came from? _Either way, he's weird_ , Merle decided, the tip of her tail bobbing. _Reminds me an awful lot of Hitomi._

Finishing whatever he was doing, Dane sashayed away from the table when Varys and Lord Van shambled over. The king, perspiration on his brow, crumpled into the chair, out of breath from his exertion. The freshly laundered nightshirt, this one maroon and laced appropriately at the chest, ended at his calves, effectively concealing his sensitive areas. Varys peevishly forced a black robe around Lord Van and fur-lined slippers onto his feet. Merle helped the king scoot closer to the table as he fumbled with the robe's sleeves and sloppily knotted the sash.

Once Lord Van was comfortable, Varys pointed his nose up and sniffed scornfully. "Enjoy your breakfast, Majesty."

"I will," the king said crisply. "You may go."

Dane and Varys bowed and departed the bedchamber, the door clicking after them. Once they were gone, Lord Van slouched back into his padded armchair, his defenses lowered. Walking down the dais to the table had sapped him of his bravado, but as Merle knew, he wouldn't show weakness in front of others. Only with her would he drop the façade of the stern warrior and capable monarch. She passed him a cloth napkin, and he accepted it, sopping up the moisture on his forehead and the contours of his face.

Apprehension eclipsed Merle's happiness of their intimate dining arrangement. "Are you well, Lord Van? I hope this wasn't too much for you."

"I'm alright, Merle." He graced her with a crooked smile as sweet as maple syrup. "I've missed our breakfasts."

"Me too." Blood pooled into her face. A tiny thrill shot down her spine and out her tail. She was grateful for the tan of her fur; it camouflaged her flush of pleasure. Before his illness, it had been routine for Merle to take breakfast with Lord Van as often as possible. Busy as he was with ruling Fanelia, the morning meals had kept the two of them close.

While he rested, Merle ladled porridge into a bowl for each of them. In hers, she mixed apples and poured herself some tea. Fanning himself with the napkin, Lord Van dumped honey and berries into his bowl, stirred, and added a dollop of cream. He also consented to the orange juice and toast from Merle. As the Catgirl ate, scarcely tasting her own porridge, she counted every spoonful of food consumed by Lord Van, measuring today's appetite against yesterday's.

The meal was unexpectedly quiet, though Merle had hoped otherwise. Lord Van gazed down into his bowl as if he skried for the future in mashed berries and congealing grains of porridge. When she asked questions, he responded in short bursts. He shoveled food into his mouth mechanically, although he emptied the bowl and chewed half a slice of toast. As he drank the juice, his hand sought the thread of a gold chain around his neck. His fingers worried the stone of Hitomi's old pendant, the jewel abnormally subdued since his brush with death.

Merle plucked at the pleated material of her skirt. She'd anticipated Lord Van's continued recuperation from his ordeal. She'd assumed he would still be exhausted and frail. What she hadn't predicted was this silence between them. Granted, Lord Van was not one to prattle on, but he'd normally converse with her, even confide in her if troubled. It was obvious that something preoccupied his thoughts, and whatever that was, it distracted him from her presence and caused him pain.

Merle braved to put her paw, claws retracted, over the king's larger hand. "What is it, Lord Van?"

His eyes refocused, a film lifting from their burgundy depths. "Nothing. I'm sorry. The healing must've drained me."

"Don't lie. You're terrible at it," she chided him. "I've always been beside you. Better than anyone else, I know when you're hiding something."

"Varys was right." His jaw set stubbornly. "I overdid it."

"What's going on, Lord Van? Today's breakfast was the most you've eaten in days. And you're sleeping badly. Don't deny it. The generals tell me that they hear you in your sleep, sometimes shouting or crying."

"How wonderful that I'm the center of such gossip!" he snapped.

Her ears flopped over. "It's not gossip. Everyone around you is worried. You're not your usual self."

He laughed sardonically. "And that surprises you all? I imagine that dying, twice now, would change a person in some way."

Merle licked her lips. "You're not dead, Lord Van. You're right here, right now. Alive."

"No, I'm resurrected." The lengthy fringe of his midnight bangs shaded his eyes. "And so damn helpless. Someone always has to save me. It's pathetic."

"That's not true! You're the best, bravest, most capable person I know! You've always protected others, including me. So what if you need help sometimes? That's part of being human." The Catgirl cupped his hand between both of hers and squeezed.

He turned his head away from her. His breathing quickened. His nostrils flared and chest rose in agitation.

She pleaded, "Lord Van, please talk to me."

Again, no answer.

"Does it have anything to do with that illness or why Dane is so keen on what you're eating? I remember the glaar leaves. Is someone poi-"

"No more of this!" Lord Van jerked his hand away from hers.

His withdrawal hurt her. Still, she must cross the chasm separating them. "I only want to help. I care about you."

"I know." He softened slightly. "As I do you. You're the only family I have. So, for that reason, no more questions. I don't want you involved further."

 _Family. What a beautiful, hateful word_ , Merle mused sadly. One of her waist length, watermelon-hued tresses slipped over a narrow shoulder. "What about Hitomi?"

The king's hands balled into fists, a habit that he'd developed in their childhood when he strove to contain his emotions. A trembling, so fine anyone without feline vision would miss it, suffused his form. His head remained down, his eyes obscured. Merle hadn't imagined it was possible, but his unshaven jaw tightened even more. Her sharp ears detected the crunch of his teeth.

"She came last night, didn't she?" The Catgirl spread the fingers of her paws across the table's surface. "Did she have a vision? Is that why she's here?"

He said, a little unevenly, "She's only temporarily on Gaea. She did have a vision. She came to help. Now that she has, she'll be returning to the Mystic Moon in two days."

Merle's whiskers drooped. "That's so soon. I haven't even had a chance to see her yet. Is she well?"

"Varys says she's regained most of her strength."

"Can't we ask her to stay for a little while? It's been years, and we should do something to express our gratitude."

"No!" he barked. "She's leaving as soon as possible."

"Did you two fight?" Her nails bit into the wood of the table.

Reaching the end of his patience, Lord Van snarled, "It's not your concern!"

"It is!" she insisted, her whiskers tensing. "She's my friend too!"

"She's going, and you will not see her. I forbid it!" An artery in his neck began to pulse, a sure sign of his temper rising. The ruby-chipped stud in his earlobe mirrored the sunlight streaming through the windows, flaming.

Merle's claws scratched the table. "You're sending her away."

Nothing.

"How could you?" she demanded softly. "You love her."

"Not anymore. That was over long ago." Lord Van's voice was husky, as if speaking around a lump of food in his throat. "There's nothing between us."

"Liar!" she shouted. The white, fuzzy wisps of fur on her shoulders and elbows elevated and her tail stood straight up.

A veneer of indifference screened his face. "Believe what you will."

"I thought better of you, but it seems I was wrong. Even now, you're pushing her away," Merle murmured, incredulous.

He swallowed.

"Do you think sending Hitomi back will protect her? I'm sure there's dangers on her own world. Do you feel unworthy of her? If so, that's too much romanticizing on your part, Lord Van." The Catgirl's agile mind sifted through motivations and circumstances, piecing them together. "Oh, no. It's political. It's the arranged marriage."

"I am Fanelia's king. I have a duty to uphold."

Merle's anger emboldened her. Sentiments she had reined in for months spilt off her tongue like water. "What about a duty to yourself? Or being honest about where your affections lie? This notion of an arranged marriage is ridiculous!"

"It's necessary!" Lord Van bristled. "Such a marriage will procure new trade contracts and bring increased prosperity to my people. It'll ensure Fanelia has dependable allies to call upon in times of need."

"Stop quoting the Council!" Merle yowled. "You sound like a brainwashed puppet!"

He bellowed back, "I'm no pawn! It is I who rules!"

"And it's consumed you!"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

She stabbed the air over the king's chest with her index finger, the claw still out. "What's ridiculous is that harem you're housing! What's ridiculous is Trigornia thinking that there's an ideal match for you amongst strangers! What's ridiculous is the Council haggling for a rich dowry!"

"Careful what you say," he cautioned darkly, one eye glaring at her through his bangs. "There are those in the castle that would call such talk treasonous."

"Who cares? Those men, absorbed by their political games, are fools. This entire situation demeans you as much as those women. It's like selling an animal off to the highest bidder!"

Lord Van hissed out a breath. "That's how it's done, Merle. Marriage amongst royalty is complicated."

"It wasn't for your parents." She folded her arms over her slight chest.

"A marriage by choice didn't end very well for them either, did it?" He snorted, pinching the pendant between his fingers.

"At least they loved each other!"

"And were persecuted and cursed until they died."

"Despite that, I'm sure they found a way to be happy. They wouldn't have had Lord Folken and you otherwise," Merle argued and swiped a wrist across her moist eyes.

"Perhaps they did," Lord Van conceded. "But you must understand that Folken and I weren't simply the fruit of their romance. Merle, my father was a king himself and an old one at that. He needed children."

"Are you saying that's what this arranged thing is about? Heirs?"

"If something happens to me, Fanelia must have a ruler. Birthing an heir is of the utmost importance, especially after recent events. It's what is best for the kingdom."

"What about what's best for you?" she countered. " _Lord Van, I know._ You've concealed it well from others, but I know why you resisted the idea of such a match until a few months ago. Why you never let any woman close to you, never took a mistress. Why you steal away to stare up at the moons. Why you call that name in your dreams."

"Stop," he whispered, almost desperately.

The Catgirl raged on, "And you're a fool to do anything other than follow your heart!"

"I'm done talking about this!" Lord Van abruptly rammed his chair back, the legs screeching against the stone. Leaning on the table, he clambered to his slippered feet. "You will respect my decisions, if not as your king, then as your brother."

Lord Van trundled from the table towards the dais with his colossal bed. His balance was off. He bent to his right, favoring his left side, a hand on his hip. He'd gone a few meters before Merle spoke again. "You're not my brother."

He stopped, his back to her.

"I'm in love with you. You already guessed that, didn't you? I know you don't feel the same. You never did. You never will." She flattened her sable ears against her skull. "Lord Van, seeing you with Hitomi when we were kids, that hurt me. But seeing you with anyone else now pretending to be happy, that'll kill me."

Before he could reply, Merle leapt to her feet, bumping the table. The dishes clattered and silverware clinked. The tea sloshed over the rim of her cup and into the saucer. Uncaring, the Catgirl bolted to the door. She hurled it open, slamming it against the wall. It was Aldric, not Lord Van, who called her name in bewilderment. She wrestled with the bigger door sealing the entrance to the royal chambers. Once she created a space wide enough to admit her through, she fell to all fours in the hallway and bounded away, dripping tears behind her.

Merle raced through the castle and up flights of narrow steps. Twice her dress caught on her sandaled feet and the hem ripped. Somehow, she kicked off the shoes, faster and more dexterous without them. She whizzed by aristocrats, pages, harem ladies and their servants, and a baffled head housekeeper named Berta. Out of the ajar shutters of a window, she scaled a prickly vine up to the roof. Her sleeve tore, and the thorns of the plant's monstrous tendrils scratched her arm. To the highest tower of the ancient stone structure she escaped.

With cat expertise, Merle ascended to the peak of the tower roof. She relied on the rough pads of her paws to prevent her from slipping on the azure tiles. Despite the morning sun, they were still cool underfoot. Finding a secure area, she anchored herself in place with the claws of her feet and collapsed onto the roof. Winding her arms around her legs, she buried her face in her knees and sobbed.

"""""""

Hitomi dozed late into the day. Not that it mattered. With the guard at her door, she couldn't exactly go anywhere. For what remained of the morning, she lay listlessly on the mattress, her eyes tracing patterns in the marble ceiling. Last night she had cried herself to sleep, and her eyes thanked her today by being puffy and bloodshot. Worse, she had no energy. All she could bring herself to do was replay last night's events and sink deeper into depression.

Eventually, there was a brisk rapping. The guard permitted the smartly dressed Berta in with a tray of edibles and a set of clothes. The housekeeper inspected Hitomi. She frowned at how the younger woman's nightgown was hiked high around her knees and the neckline unbuttoned to her sternum. Just to aggravate her, Hitomi propped her shoeless feet up on a pillow, the sheet only partially covering her thighs. One of Berta's pencil-thin eyebrows curved up at the display.

She set the items down on the table and strode over to the bed. "Lady Hitomi, it is almost one in the afternoon. Aren't you hungry? The maid assigned to you says you didn't want your breakfast tray."

"Mmm." It was all Hitomi could muster.

Berta gave her a scathing look. "Surely you won't receive your guest in such a disheveled state."

"Guest?" Hitomi perked up. Could it be Van?

"Yes. Sir Trigornia wishes to see you." Berta's lip curled. "Unless you are indisposed of."

Hitomi sighed forlornly. "I suppose it's fine. I don't have much else to do."

"My, my. I thought you might be too busy moping," the housekeeper quipped.

The Mystic Moonling grumbled and rotated onto her side, hugging a pillow to her chest. "You try being locked up all day."

"I'm sure His Highness has his reasons." Berta went to Hitomi's washbasin, dipped an unsoiled cloth in, and wrung it out. "According to palace chatter, an impromptu visit certainly could _not_ have had anything to do with your current situation."

"He's just so…so…temperamental," Hitomi mumbled into the pillow.

The housekeeper smiled outright, kindness in her rain-gray eyes. "He's not known as the Dragon King for naught."

The display of humor on Berta's otherwise dispassionate face shocked Hitomi. She blinked at the woman as if she were a mole emerging from underground. The housekeeper laid the wet cloth over her sensitive eyes.

"Clean yourself up. Eat a meal. Sir Trigornia will be here in an hour," she said, and with the heels of her shoes clacking, exited the room.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

Wow! There was a huge surge in reviews this last time around. We have reached over 100 now. Yay! Thank you! *bows * I got so excited that I double-timed writing this chapter.

On another note, I want to recognize some new reviewers: Galerena, Kat, escawing, and Shadowsonic1. ^ _ ^

And to all the regular reviewers, I thank you for taking the time to support and offer suggestions for improvement in both this story and my writing. (I'm certainly learning a lot!) Your reviews and insights are valued more than I can ever express. It's been a long journey thus far, but I hope to continue it alongside you all. *big hugs and marshmallows! *


	15. Chapter 15

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Fifteen"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: From the point that Van fainted on the castle roof up until now, two weeks have passed on Gaea. What a hard chapter this was to write! I apologize for how long this chapter took, but I hope it was worth the wait, dear readers.

Edited: 11/8/2017

"""""""

Given that Hitomi had less than an hour to ready herself for Trigornia, she gobbled up Berta's food, dowsed herself with water from the washbasin, and rushed through brushing her teeth and hair. Once she figured out what the Gaean versions of deodorant and mouthwash were, she changed into fresh undergarments, a pair of balloon-like pantaloons that stopped above her calves, and a silken slip. A boned corset with bows awaited her next. She scrunched up her nose at it and instead retrieved the last of the wardrobe Berta had left.

She shook out the teal dress. The style was indisputably Asturian with its puffed sleeves, the webbing of lacework across the collar, and the column of pearl buttons in front. As she shimmied into the dress, she grasped the importance of the corset to shape one's body. Without it, the material bunched in awkward places and accentuated curves and rolls that she preferred were not. The petite, irregularly formed buttons proved to be equally vexing. She nuzzled the pearls into their respective holes with her nails, a meticulous process.

The clock with its cherubs belled the promised hour, and the afternoon sunlight gleamed in yellow lances across her room. Just as Hitomi anticipated, a punctual knock came from the door. She smoothed her antennae and called for the person to enter. The guard outside of her door obligingly opened it and ferried her guests through. The plates of his armor shined and clanked. An old man she had seen twice before, once in a dream and then at Van's bedside, walked austerely into her guestroom. At his heels was Berta, her hands joined before her, her face somber as a holy woman's. The guard saluted, jangling as he did so, and shut the door once more.

Hitomi rose to her slippered feet. Van's most trusted advisor, Sir Trigornia, and she appraised one another. He seemed quite average, neither tall nor short, not precisely thin but not plump either. She guessed him to be in his fifties with a salt-and-pepper mustache and a bald spot crowning his head. What hair endured there had been grown out to his shoulders and curled at the ends. He dressed in the finery of an Asturian courtier: a gaudily patterned cravat, a sleek doublet and waistcoat, tailored pants, and sterile gloves. She noted the strange functionality of his leather boots in comparison to the rest of his flamboyant outfit.

He flourished his wrist and stooped over in a beautiful bow. "Good afternoon, Lady Hitomi. Please forgive the hasty nature of my visit. My name is Wilhem Trigornia. I hold the office of King's Voice."

"I'm pleased to…to make your acquaintance." Hitomi fumbled over the phrase. On an afterthought, she bobbed a clumsy curtsey. "I'm Hitomi Kanzaki from the Mystic Moon."

Trigornia indicated Berta, who stood stoically in a corner, with the flip of an index finger. "I believe you know the head housekeeper of the East Wing. She is here to act as a chaperone."

Hitomi blinked in surprise. "A chaperone?"

"Our customs might seem peculiar to a foreigner like you. Let me assure you that Berta is here to simply preserve the purity of your reputation." He beamed benevolently and his mustache rose. "Pardon my bluntness, but idle tongues can warp even the most innocent of ventures."

 _Like my visit_ , she comprehended, regretful. Swallowing, she prayed the heat in her cheeks wasn't too noticeable.

In that moment of hindsight, backed by Trigornia's words, Hitomi fathomed that she was in a very complex social environment. The courtly life of modern Fanelia was different from the more lenient one she had known in the past. This sphere operated by a set of rules which were as alien to her as any dragon or levitating ship. No one here would credit her with good morals simply because she claimed to have them. Furthermore, anything she did, no matter how benign, could reflect negatively on those that she cared about and her own self.

From now on, she must tread cautiously.

"I appreciate your…um…candidness." Hitomi motioned to the table and chair where she'd eaten earlier. "Would you like to sit?"

"Thank you." Trigornia strolled to the chair, pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket, and dusted off the upholstered pad. He paused expectantly. "Please, ladies first."

Hitomi schooled her face into a neutral expression, but the impulse to grin at Trigornia's formality tickled her lips. To hide it, she fussed with her skirt as she perched on the bed. The Voice settled himself into the chair facing her and rooted around in the lapel pocket of his waistcoat. He withdrew a folded parchment sealed in red wax with the Fanelian crest. Gently, he laid it on the table within Hitomi's reach.

He nodded at the paper. "I'm sure you must be wondering about the nature of my visit. I'm supposed to deliver this to you on behalf of His Highness, King Van Fanel."

"What is it?" she asked. The minutest spark of optimism flashed in her heart.

"He didn't say." Trigornia shifted uncomfortably. "However, Lord Van did wish for me to express his gratitude to you."

Hitomi raised her hand with the palm out. "Thank you, but it's not necessary. I wanted to-"

"And to remind you that you must be gone from White Castle within the allotted two days," he parroted Van's prior decree.

 _That idiot king._ Hitomi ground her teeth together. They grated like stones against one another. Her fingers dug mercilessly into the feather mattress of the bed. _That mule headed, asinine jerk. Of all the stupid…_

Trigornia cleared his throat, interrupting her internal tirade. "Aside from this errand, I've wanted to speak to you. My behavior in the royal chamber…at that time…was not good. I'm afraid I acted quite ungentlemanly."

"It's fine. We all were stressed." Hitomi relaxed her jaw as best she could, although a tightness lingered around her lips.

"Please accept my apology." The older man ducked his head in contrition. "I am not normally such a tyrant towards friends of Lord Van and Lady Merle."

"To be fair, I don't usually throw myself on top of royals either." Hitomi managed a feeble smile to accompany the halfhearted joke.

The Voice coughed delicately into a gloved fist. "Pardon me, but the palace gossip this morning would suggest otherwise."

She reddened. "Last night was different, and so was…that time."

Neither Trigornia nor Hitomi could bring themselves to discuss Van almost dying. It was too morbid.

"Although your stay will be brief, I must explain certain matters to you." His fingers tugged on his mustache.

Hitomi stiffened her back. She detected the underlying chastising note in the man's voice. "Of course."

Trigornia produced a second paper from his waistcoat, this one penned in bold ink, and rested it atop of the first. He waggled his bushy eyebrows at her. "There are important guests presently residing in White Castle who would interpret last night's events as something less than noble. For the sake of propriety and my king's temper, please refrain from such late outings unless dire circumstances demand otherwise."

Disconcerted by the rebuke, Hitomi glanced down at the note scrawled across the second sheet of paper. Startled, she reread the words there. _There are many important things I wish to discuss with you, Lady Hitomi. However, our current location is neither safe nor secure. If you are willing to meet with me this eve, I will send a guide to take you somewhere wherein we may chat privately._

Aloud, Trigornia said, "Is that understood, Lady Hitomi?"

"Yes, I'll do as you say." Anyone listening in on their conversation, including Berta and the guard, would think her response was to his reprimand.

"Most excellent." He steepled his fingers together and leaned back in the chair.

She steeled her nerves and held his gaze with her eyes, bottomless as green pools. "But I do have two conditions."

His eyebrows arched incredulously, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening. "Oh? And these are?"

"Please remove the guard. I promise you I won't do anything to harm the reputation of King Van." She docilely laced her fingers together in her lap. She drew upon the manners her mother had taught her growing up. Hopefully, Trigornia would see she was, indeed, a lady and not a pest he must swat.

"The guard is stationed outside of your door for your own protection, Lady Hitomi," Trigornia said. A polite firmness had entered his voice. It was the tone one might use with a willful child or an irksome underling.

Hitomi countered quietly, "Do you treat all of your guests like this? Has this castle become such a dangerous place?"

"Not at all," Trigornia said.

"Other people might take this kind of behavior as favoritism," she pressed on. "That can't be a good thing for current politics."

Trigornia bristled, his moustache poofed in agitation. "It is King Van's command."

She frowned and gave up being diplomatic. Her need for mobility overpowered her reserved Japanese upbringing. If she was to save Van, despite his objections, she couldn't stay trapped in this room. "Then talk to Van. Tell him I'll behave myself. I won't go near him if that's what he wants. I'll leave peacefully when the time comes. But while I'm here, don't treat me like a criminal."

The Voice sighed and swiped a hand across his pate. "Very well. I'll relay your message to His Majesty. The decision is his in the end. What is your second request?"

"Dane." Once more she locked eyes with the advisor. "And Ruhm. I want to see them."

His eyes became glacial. "Absolutely, Lady Hitomi. I can arrange meetings with them in the next few days. I know you must want to say your farewells-"

"No," she said crisply. "Sooner than that."

"I will inquire about their schedules and-"

"Tonight, if possible."

Hitomi's intuition told her that this meeting, for all its secrecy, was important and likely involved Van. That alone entitled Ruhm, one of the king's oldest friends, and Dane, the king's healer, to be present. More so, a queasiness in her gut niggled her, warning her of an impending dilemma. If that was the case, Ruhm's brawn and Dane's gifts would be handy.

Trigornia stroked his chin. "That will be difficult. They have-"

"Ask them." She flexed her fingers and pinched the material of her skirt. "Please."

"I will do my best to accommodate your wishes, Lady Hitomi, but I can make no guarantees." The Voice stood abruptly. He wadded up his scrap of paper into a ball and dropped it back into his lapel pocket. The document with the royal seal remained on the table. "This concludes our business. If you will excuse me, I must take my leave. I have pressing matters that I must see to."

Hitomi trailed the Voice to the door. The heels of her furred slippers clonked on the floor. "Thank you for coming, Sir Trigornia."

Trigornia muttered a gruff adieu which Hitomi returned with her own Japanese bow. He snapped his fingers and the silent Berta, who Hitomi had almost forgotten about, fell in step behind him. The thick wood of the door thunked after them. She heard a clamor of armor and the guard's voice on the other side. There was a brief, inaudible conversation and then silence.

Once they were gone, Hitomi collapsed into the chair Trigornia had been in. She exhaled and rotated her shoulders to loosen the muscles there. Dane was right; Trigornia was someone to be wary of. Obstinate as Van, chivalrous as Allen, and observative as Dryden, he could be either a strong ally or a cunning foe. _I just have to find out which one tonight_ , Hitomi thought tiredly, her energy sapped from the encounter.

She looked at the sealed parchment. Part of her dreaded opening it, so sure she was of further rejection from Van. Yet, somewhere inside the cage of her breast, hope beat its urgent bird wings. Biting her lip, she slid the lump of paper across the table to her. She cracked the wax seal and tenderly flattened the creases of the page.

Van wrote no lines to her, the page porous, blank, and snowfall white. Instead, the king had wrapped the paper around something that spoke more to her than any words could. Hitomi seized a pale, thin chain between her index finger and thumb. She hoisted the necklace up to eyelevel, an obsidian stone dangling like a lead ball from it. The jewel sucked in the afternoon light and did not emit any of its own. Still striking and eerie, the pendant nonetheless felt incomplete, comatose.

The pendant chose its bearer. It had found its way back to her, and in doing so, it had delivered an unmistakable message from Van.

This was his goodbye.

"""""""

Van sat pensively against his knoll of pillows, the bed's headboard creaking, the blankets thrown to the side. One of his knees was bent and the other lay flat across the mattress. He cocked an arm across the upraised knee. The position hiked up his maroon nightshirt and unbelted robe to expose his lightly haired calves. He stared at the table where Merle had taken breakfast with him earlier. Since then, a maid had tidied it and replaced the dishes with more pamphlets and tubes of parchment from the Council of Dragons. The chair that the Catgirl had occupied still set at an angle away from the table, abandoned by Merle as she had fled, a reminder of their fight.

The king combed a hand through his unkempt mane, shoving the night-dark locks out of his eyes. Piles of glossy shadowgraphs, bits of wax seals, torn envelopes, crushed papers, and a half-eaten scone on a napkin littered the mattress around him. How long had he been idle in bed, rehashing the morning's events with Hitomi and Merle? There was work for him to do, and he really should get to it. The business of running a country never ceased, not even for an ailing ruler.

The Council of Dragons pursued its timetable of assemblies. During Van's absence, they had introduced several controversial bills which included banishing the Plague ridden from Fanelia and a retaliation against Daedalus's occupation of their northern border. To further complicate matters, Daedalus's princess, Keterina, was one of Van's esteemed guests. She had assumed a more aggressive stance at court, perhaps as a result of her country's unchecked advance, and had attempted to use her station to see Van during his "cold." Trigornia had just barely kept her at bay without inciting a war. If word of the slight were whispered in the ear of either Keterina's father, King Phillip na Daedalo, or her twin brother also lodged in White Castle, a bad situation was likely to ensue.

Trigornia also had conveyed a mounting tension amongst "the harem," as Merle had deemed all the daughters of the foreign royals, merchants, and dignitaries housed in his castle. These ladies had spent two and a half months gamboling around the Capital, flaunting their frills and perfumes, and flirting wantonly in expectation of Van's decision. Competition was cutthroat, and more than one aspirant had gone home with a sullied reputation, pilfered items, and once even a bruised eye. The many that persevered had spoken to Trigornia, and been very clear, that they would not wait for his choice after a third month. Putting it off much longer endangered the stability of Fanelia's future, and Van refused to plunge his people back into a pointless confrontation because of female vanity or his own hesitation.

He would choose by the end of this, the third, month.

When he did, Van hoped to be rid of two more issues: the money being drained from Fanelia by the entourages of these women and the chaos accompanying them. Of course, being rich, noble, or both, the marriage candidates invited to the Capital could not travel alone. They lugged their servants, chaperones, spies, guards, and family along with them. These unsolicited parties had infested the Capital, preying on the nation's hospitality and planting the seeds of conflict. So far, most of the members of Van's court maintained their loyalty to him, but others dealt in shadowy affairs with these invasive tagalongs, plotting to undermine his reign.

More disconcerting than a potential rebellion was the threat of Plague. The sickness had continued its spread through Fanelia while Van was preoccupied with his health. Worse, its pace had quickened. According to the latest reports, the rural population counted almost double the infected within a two-week span, and now five cases had been confirmed in the previously unaffected Capital. As per his orders, those individuals had been uprooted from their residences and quarantined in the village of Adom. Correspondences had also arrived from Duke Chid in Freid and the physicians of Adom yesterday. None of them were any closer to a cure.

On top of that, disturbing news of Demons had reached the Capital. While mostly a rare occurrence, these sinister presences had likewise increased in numbers and the frequency of their sightings. They had grown daring, prowling more populous areas. In the last few days, the Demons' victims had included a farmer and his sons harvesting their crops and a group of children at play.

Van had leafed through the interviews of the witnesses and survivors. He had studied the accompanying shadowgraphs of maimed corpses and a single downed Demon. He had hovered over the pictures of the youngest victims, his thumb tracing faces and wounds. Something like glass shards had carved a gorge through his heart.

He would decree tomorrow a day of mourning for his people lost to the Demons. May all of Fanelia grieve for them. Van also planned to give their families funds to purchase winter food stores and fix any damaged property. Most importantly, he would organize a portion of his own military in the Capital and send them out to back local hunting parties. Perhaps Dinair's Claws, an elite faction of cavalry and bowmen, would be suitable. They could quickly and efficiently find the Demons and destroy them before anyone else was sacrificed.

Van's eyes flicked to the top of the nearest stack of shadowgraphs on his bed. Across its black and white contrasted surface slumped a large, foul creature. The carcass dwarfed a man in the frame with a wood axe, this Demon near thrice his height. It was by far the biggest the king had seen in such photos. That the people of Dragoton had killed it was miraculous. Judging from the mangled melf in the background of the shadowgraph, Van had a decent idea how they had accomplished it.

"Guymelfs. We need guymelfs," he mumbled to himself. He covered the graven image of the 'graph with his fingers, blocking out the maw of the Demon that gaped in death.

Similar accounts from neighboring communities overran Van's desk, corroborating a truth he struggled to accept. Demons the size of cattle in one town. Three more that somehow propelled men backwards with an invisible force. More Demons on the Main Road, faster, stronger than those described by Aldric. On and on the stories went, each with their supplementary drawings, shadowgraphs, and signed statements. Yes, it might be shock; people in such horrific circumstances often unintentionally embellished what they experienced and misremembered details. Nonetheless, it was an identical observation in all of them, that the monsters were mutating, becoming something else entirely.

The king shuddered. He removed his arm from atop his knee and shielded his eyes with his elbow, wishing he could blot out reality as effortlessly. _They're evolving, the Demons. Getting smarter, tougher, and developing some kind of power. I don't understand how, but they are_ , he conceded, his throat constricting with worry.

He forced himself to take steadying breaths. To calm his mind, he imagined pacing himself through the sword dance Balgus had drilled into him. Step, step. Slash. Step, step. Block.

No, Van mustn't be overwhelmed. He was the king of Fanelia, and a whole nation relied on him to navigate through these troubled waters.

 _Troubled waters? How about tempestuous currents? How about hurricane driven seas?_ he mocked his own description.

The king lowered his arm and squeezed his eyebrows together determinedly. Fine, so he had poisoned meals, a would-be assassin, and a scheming phantom thrown into the mix. He could handle all of it. What were they but more riddles to unravel? With time, he would address these concerns as well. Yes, just like how the Mystic Moon healer, Dane, was able to determine if his food and water were safe or not. Maybe it was a transitory, haphazard solution, but it was one nonetheless.

Yet, just like in the past, Van was in the same position of relying on others for answers. He hated this dependency, this inability to resolve things on his own. In this case, with so much happening, he feared there was no alternative. It chafed his ego, but he needed help. But who in his court, in the Capital, could he turn to for aid? The assassination plot had caused him to question everyone around him, except for Merle and Hitomi, and they must be safeguarded above all else.

Oh, the irony of current events wasn't lost to him; the two individuals Van harbored the most faith in were the ones he pushed the farthest away.

He admitted his performance as the callous lord had been overly done, even a tad on the desperate side. It was a gamble on his part. With Hitomi's abilities, he had worried she would see through his acting. Really, she should have. He supposed if their original bond, even with the wall obstructing it, had been intact, she probably would have. Van was no thespian and merely passable as a politician. But five years had passed, and time did change people, just as he had said. Apparently, Hitomi knew this too.

Still, dealing with the Council and figureheads of other nations had at least improved how Van disciplined his features and gauged his adversaries' body language. He'd learned how to predict opponents' strategies and garner meaning from their rambling speeches. His exposure to all the debates, assemblies, social functions, treaties, and haggling had honed his sociopolitical mask of the warrior-king. Its visage of the indomitable, confident lord had saved him, and his own policies, more than once.

During the arguments with Hitomi and Merle, he had drawn upon this veneer and its gift of deception. It was imperative that they believed he had no feelings for the Mystic Moonling anymore. Nonetheless, it was debatable how successful Van's exploits had been.

His control had slipped, especially with Hitomi. There she'd been, his savior from the stars, surprisingly in the flesh. Oh, what alluring flesh it had been: soft, creamy, and flushed with earnestness. She had visited him audaciously in her sleeping garb at an improper time of the night. Despite a prudishly buttoned collar and being clothed in a robe, she had tempted him with her rounded breasts, her sensitive bearing, and her unwavering, virescent eyes.

The lonesome nights he had passed dreaming of the girl he had known couldn't possibly have prepared him for the woman she would become. That, accompanied with his escape from death and his current private hell, had shredded Van's restraint.

After all these years and his self-imposed exile from her, how could he not touch her, kiss her? If doing so meant Van was a hypocrite, then so be it.

It had only been a taste, just an instant with Hitomi where he didn't deny himself his own humanity. That greediness was but a brief indulgence, and yet it had inevitably exaggerated an already agonizing situation.

Everything was his fault. Van wouldn't pretend otherwise. Maybe he had lied to Hitomi and Merle, but he wouldn't do so to himself.

Somehow, Van had recovered his senses and torn himself away from Hitomi. He had pantomimed his way through till the wrenching end of his performance. He had dismissed Hitomi and kicked her out of his chamber, humiliated her in front of his subordinates, confined her to her room, and isolated her from friends. In case all of that hadn't convinced her to leave, he had sent Trigornia off on a final, necessary errand.

The pendant couldn't remain with him. Not now. Van didn't deserve it. Hitomi may have bequeathed it to him, but he had always considered it hers. To him, it had represented a tangible link to her across eons, dimensions, and improbabilies. If he had kept it, then she would have suspected the truth. She would have stayed, and she couldn't.

She just couldn't.

And so, Van had brandished words like weapons, his tongue his sword, cutting and hacking at Hitomi's vulnerabilities. He had been cruel and exacting, bordering on violent. Sometimes, his own self-pity had shown through along with his misgivings about everything working out for the better. How did one fight an arranged marriage, an epidemic, a paranormal terror, and a world that repeatedly tried to slide back into war all at once? He already had enough to contend with before the girl from the Mystic Moon once more descended from the sky and into his lap.

Though he desired to protect Hitomi, to rekindle a relationship with her, something even as innocent as a friendship, he couldn't. Gaea was no safer now than in their youth. In fact, it was worse, and Van was even more powerless than before.

This time he couldn't shelter Hitomi from the rest of Gaea with the title of his office, not when it caged him so. Despite training with his generals, his skills with the sword were rusty, his time consumed leading a kingdom. He doubted his ability to defend the Mystic Moonling from another warrior let alone a dragon or a Demon. The one thing that could guarantee her wellbeing, Escaflowne, slept, crusted over with dirt and as buried as the secret of his Draconian heritage.

No, Van was too damn weak. He would be useless to Hitomi, and he couldn't risk waking Escaflowne and resuming his addiction to it. The best thing he could do for her, the only way to ensure her safety, was to send her back to the Mystic Moon.

What Van hadn't foreseen was Merle. A miscalculation on his part. He should have realized she would notice something bothering him. He had assumed everyone would chalk up his irritability and distractedness to his condition, just byproducts of his recovery, but not Merle. The Catgirl had been with him too long, knew him too well. She picked up on his moods as easily as the needle of a compass pointed north. He could not conceal the anxiety in his heart from her.

During breakfast, Merle had lent her ear to him, drawing out his selfishness, his ineffectuality. At first, he had fallen back into the old deflections he'd used from childhood. He'd denied, raged, and when that hadn't work, he had withdrawn himself. At that point, she'd normally back down, tuck up against his side, and not pry further.

But not this time.

Merle's eyes had gone to his hand. He had unconsciously been gripping Hitomi's pendant. Perceiving this gesture, she had fought back against him, shrewdly bringing up almost every concern he struggled with. The Catgirl had meant to reassure him that someone nearby cared, but she'd alarmed and exasperated him instead.

Was he so transparent?

Why couldn't she let sleeping dragons lie?

At least Van had steered her away from anymore talk of being poisoned. He had to prevent her from getting further involved in the machinations of his murder. He'd thought desperately of another tidbit to sink her fangs into, something perhaps to do with the harem. Before he could vocalize anything, being the stubborn feline she was, Merle had latched onto something more upsetting-Hitomi.

After that topic, breakfast had been horrendous, totally ruined. Van had forbidden Merle to go to Hitomi and snubbed inviting the Mystic Moonling to holiday in the Capital. The Catgirl had accused him of not following his heart and casting Hitomi aside. Merle had brought up the example of his parents and how their love had defied conventions. He had counterattacked with the Draconians' legacy of unacceptance and how it had impacted his family, a reality not colored by her romantic ruminations. After a pregnant silence, the king had shambled away to his bed, in his mind effectively ending their quarrel. He had obscured his physical discomfort and mental disarray behind a façade of imperial self-righteousness.

What Merle said after that, almost whispered, had stunned Van, halted him midstride. _I'm in love with you,_ she had said. That sentence had stripped him of his fortifications, his playacting. _You already guessed that, didn't you?_

It was true. He had. Years ago. Gods, when had their unspoken stalemate began? Five years ago? Ten?

Van wasn't certain when he had first noticed the change in Merle's affections. In his mind, their bond had simply morphed into something else on its own one day, something intense and

not platonic. Merle had never articulated her emotions, although she had clung harder to him and interfered with outsiders when they came too close, particularly female ones. If she had been overprotective of him, Van had let her do so. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, and a part of him had reveled in the attention.

Merle was his best friend, his little sister, the sole connection to his former life and family. He loved her, but it wasn't the same as hers.

They carried on with this deadlock for what felt like forever, Merle pining and covetous, Van amiable and feigning ignorance. Merle originally recognized Van's love for Hitomi before he had understood it himself. She had tried to separate the two as teens, but when that hadn't worked, the Catgirl had encouraged Van to act honestly on his feelings. In doing so, she had quenched some of the flames in her heart, although the fire never quite went out.

Lately, with the introduction of eligible ladies to his court and the marital negotiations, Merle was acting up again. She touched him frequently these days, a paw on his hand, fingertips on his forehead, a shoulder massage. The Catgirl invented excuses for them to be alone together. Since Hitomi had rescued him from death, she insisted on aiding him to dress and bathe, although within the limits set by Trigornia. Full nudity, thankfully, was not allowed by his Voice. Merle also never had anything good to say about the bridal candidates, always found fault with all of them.

Mostly, her eyes betrayed her, haunting his every move, jealous and possessive. Merle watched Van like he must watch Hitomi.

He'd wanted to spare the Catgirl's feelings, told himself that she nurtured nothing more for him than infatuation, a pubescent admiration. He'd waited for it to fade, for her to outgrow it. Of course, she never did. Maybe he'd unintentionally entertained it, enjoyed being the center of her attention, the pride she took in him.

That was his fault.

No, he never said anything, but somehow, she had discerned the truth. _I know you don't feel the same. You never did. You never will._

When Merle had confessed, Van should've spun around and gone to her. He should've hugged her and apologized. He should've assured her that she was important to him, that she always would be no matter what. Should've, should've, should've. That was the issue. He didn't, hadn't. Stunned, he'd kept his back to her, immobile and distant.

And she'd run.

Impotent anger and remorse swelled inside of Van like a flame gorging on oil. He gritted his teeth and grabbed a fistful of the shadowgraph pages. Issuing a strangled cry of frustration and disgust, he hurled them away from him. They dispersed, whirling through the air, spinning rectangles, frozen moments adrift. They landed on the dais, the steps, stone floor. He breathed hard, his lungs struggling against a keen flare of pain, a stone wedged in his chest.

 _Lord Van, seeing you with Hitomi when we were kids, that hurt me. But seeing you with anyone else now pretending to be happy, that'll kill me._

He was a fool.

And must continue to be.

"""""""

The great horns trumpeting disrupted Merle's misery. Despite being atop the tower, their deep, resonating sound vibrated her ears. She lifted her head from her knees, her arms still snugly clasped around them. Her blue eyes, wet from crying, instinctually sought the direction of the horns. In a sky ripe with a candy apple sunset, an arrow-shaped leviship glided, propellers spinning, the rocks elevating it craggy and dark. The metallic object banked and began a slow descent behind the castle, farther away where the dockyard was.

Temporarily forgetting her sorrow, the Catgirl's tufted ears twitched. Voices shouted from off in the distance. She unwound herself, extended her diamond-bright claws, and crawled down the tower's roof to a ledge. Merle stuck her claws between the joints of the ceramic shingles and anchored herself in place. She peered over the roof's edge. Dozens of ant-like men swarmed the dockyard. They waved and yelled, excited. They tied ropes and clamped chains to the appropriate anchors, holding the leviship fast. From the belly of the leviship extended a cylindrical tube, an elevator, and inside of it was a small congregation of people.

Sharpening her vision, Merle made out a glint of silver and blond hair, but that was all. She squinted and turned to the side of the leviship. Painted in prodigious, golden curlicues was the name "Sanctuary." Her tail lashed behind her in concentration. She didn't recognize the leviship or its name. It likely belonged to a wealthy nation judging by the sheer size of the vessel.

Still, who could it be? She hadn't heard of any harem relatives coming, and there were no scheduled trips from any diplomats or neighboring countries. Whatever this was about, Merle bet it was big. _Lord Van might need me_ , she thought habitually, and then remembering the present, she squashed the notion.

Once more, the loss of Lord Van and any chance of him reciprocating her love savaged Merle's insides. This time she embraced the bereavement rather than denying it or pitying herself. The cinders of her unrequited love tasted ashy on her tongue. She consented to a moment of defeat, allowed the ruthless beast to set fully upon her heart. And yet, the organ pulsed, rhythmic, staunch. She didn't crumble, didn't wither away. Pointing her nose into the cool wind, Merle acknowledged she would live, for she could do nothing else.

Having made up her mind, Merle licked a paw and buffed the residual tears from her cheeks. It wouldn't do to pay a social call resembling a furry snot ball. Really, the Catgirl should thank whoever owned the Sanctuary. By popping in like this, it would divert Lord Van long enough for her to speak with Hitomi.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

Ta dah! ^ _ ^ After an entire summer of silence, I have returned! Don't you love when life just takes over? Let's see, what has been happening? Two moves within a year, settling into a new residence, work issues, a death in the family, and a wedding (not mine, lol). And then I fell behind in my duties as Banryuu's beta and had to catch up there. At last, here I am!

I hope you all will forgive me for taking some time off from "Soulmates." It stagnated for a bit but isn't dead, as some of you had worried. Nope! This story, my ever-growing beast, is quite alive!

As previously mentioned, this chapter was tough, especially Van's section. I wrote, deleted, rewrote, and deleted it. Over and over. Finally, I stumbled upon his voice only after becoming just as broody and grouchy as Van himself. Geez, did he have a bunch to say after that! Well, I turned to my Van expert, Banryuu, to make sure he wasn't out of character or whiny. (Thank you, Banryuu!) Then I asked the wonderful Mystical Grace to give the whole chapter a good look over. (Thank you, Mystical!) In the end, I feel it all came together nicely.

A shout out to the newest reviewers: Kitani (You remember the old version of this fic? Awww! *nostalgia* I'm glad you are happy to see it again!), Moonwing1 (In regards to the twisty plot, it'll only get twistier, lol. ^ _ - ), and fourtyfour (I adore Torg, and it's great to hear someone else is a fan!)

 **Everyone, for your continued support, I thank you. During my absence, you messaged and reviewed and waited so patiently. You all give me the strength (and motivation!) to keep moving forward. Thank you!**

(P.S.) I got a bit sidetracked by Zatch (Gash) Bell. Yes, yes, I am late in discovering it. *blushes* Anyway, I went through the whole manga in about two weeks, and then I jumped onto the anime. The manga ending made me cry! The anime deviated too much from the original comic for my taste, but it was certainly nice to hear the characters speaking and to see them in color! Now I'm fangirling Wonrei/Lien with a scoop of Brago/Sherry on top. In fact, I'm fangirling so much that the desire to write is kicking in. *sweatdrop* (I had the same happen with Zootopia and no story. Maybe it's just a fangirl urge of mine, lol.)


	16. Chapter 16

**Vision of Escaflowne: Soulmates**

Written by: Meghanna Starsong

"Chapter Sixteen"

Standard Disclaimer: Escaflowne is copyright to its creator, Shoji Kawamori, owners, and distributors. I am not making any money off of this fanfiction. None of the original characters are mine, although I have inserted my own characters into this universe as well. Please do not steal the original characters or use them without my permission. This is a continuation of Escaflowne the series after Episode 26.

Author's Notes: Just to clarify the timeline again, it's been a full two weeks since Van's rooftop fainting spell and a week since Hitomi returned to Gaea. From here on out, some original characters from the series will be making an appearance.

Edited: 11/20/2017

"""""""

Hitomi lifted her nose from the volume on Daedalus history when a loud whirring noise came from outside. Setting the book aside, she bounded to her feet and dashed to the window. She unhooked the latch on the twin glass panels and tugged them inward. A brisk draft howled into her room, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, undulating the tapestries on the walls, and flipping the pages of her abandoned book. Goosebumps inched up her arms through the sleeves of her dress, and her skirt billowed around her ankles. Disregarding all this, she thrusted her head out of the window, her torso leaning over the ledge, and craned her neck as far back as she could.

Overhead, a leviship flew towards the rear of the castle. It resembled a flat arrowhead with tan rocks in various dimensions spanning the width of its imposing wings. Lights blinked green and red near the metal and glass viewing deck. The bizarre droning was a series of propellers which elevated the machine. It glided slowly through the sunset, backlit by coral and scarlet clouds. The last luster of sun gleamed off writing on the side of the leviship, but it was too far away for Hitomi to make out.

As if in answer to this, the area between her eyebrows, the seat of her third eye, puckered and tingled. Hitomi clapped a hand over that spot. A series of pictures in blue monotones zipped across the canvas of her mind: a lissome man in a stylish uniform with a blond ponytail, a lovely woman with ears ornamented by precious cuffs, and seven ragtag males in nondescript clothing with their backs to her. In the vision, she reached out a hand towards the people there, but they fuzzed and waned into obscurity.

Still somewhere in that unnatural night, she fumbled forward, trying to find her way out. Something unyielding and sharp pressed into the palm of her hand. Her astral fingers whisked over the double-sided blade. It swiped across her hand, puncturing the skin of her palm. She squealed in surprised pain, her blood oozing onto the blade. Then a carmine orb winked and opened, the only vividly hued thing in this vision. It watched her, a dragon's slitted eye, an awakening star.

She gaped at it, the hand it had wounded cradled against her breasts protectively. Its pupil rolled back and forth, up and down. It sized her up, some cunning presence behind the eye-jewel. _What are you?_ she asked it, simultaneously afraid and mesmerized by the eye.

Low-pitched, booming horns pulled Hitomi out her trance. She was humped over the window ledge, her form from the hips up hanging out and her right arm extended. Only her bent knees anchored her to the spot. Realizing how close she was to tumbling out of the window, she withdrew back into the room. The glass panels rattled with another gust of air. She knelt there with her hands on the ledge, her face into the wind, lips chapped. Licking them, she observed dusk deepen to mauve, plum, and then the inky-indigo of evening. By the time the first glittery stars revealed themselves, her drumming pulse had calmed.

 _I know those people. Surely that was Allen, Princess Eries Aston, and the crew of the Crusade?_ Hitomi attempted to sort out what she had seen. Her cheeks stung from the wind. It was odd how chilly tonight was in comparison to the day before. She rubbed her right hand against her cheek and felt a throb. In disbelief, she brought the appendage up to her eyes and saw a cut across her palm caked with dried blood.

"It marked you," a baritone voice thundered.

Startled, Hitomi spun around on her knees, her back against the stones of the ledge. An intimidating mountain-of-a-man materialized over her with boulders for shoulders and stalagmites for legs. He was colossal, bigger than even the giant, Torg. The sinews of his arms bunched beneath the interlocking plates of his armor and a lengthy cape. A bristly mustache drooped over a serious mouth, gray like the wild thatch of hair on his head. Bold, maroon scars, left by the claws of some beast, marred the man's face and continued over most of his physique. His sole good eye captured hers, black and beady, but kind. An iridescent haze of energy, like a heat mirage, outlined the man, the only telltale sign of him being a spirit.

"B-Balgus," Hitomi named the caller.

"Lady Hitomi." The warrior presented her with a small smile.

Once more, she held her injured hand to her chest. "What do you mean that I'm marked? Marked by what?"

"It is nearby. You found it in the dark. It judged you as worthy and marked you, so that it might recognize you in the physical realm." The grizzly specter pointed to her hand with an index finger. "Behold."

Obediently, Hitomi glanced once more at her palm. The skin had sealed itself, and the blood had evaporated away as inevitably as a puddle in a desert. All that remained was an upraised, salmon-colored line slashing diagonally across her palm. She smoothed the fingers of her left hand up and down the strip of flesh. It prickled unpleasantly.

"The cut's gone," she said. "What did this to me?"

"An old power," Balgus cryptically replied. "The pendant will know it."

Sighing, Hitomi gave up any hope of straightforward answers. She stood, gathered the two panels of the window, and fastened them with the wire latch. With the window bolted again, she was eye to eye with her own reflection, her face melancholy and milky.

The imposing warrior loomed beside her in the glass, dwarfing her. "Lord Van is troubled."

"I can tell," she agreed mirthlessly. The king's rejection was too fresh; it still tasted as pithy as lemons to her. "Supposedly, I'm the one upsetting him."

Balgus shut his single eye. "Something plagues his heart. It feeds upon his weakness. It chases him in sleep and harries him when awake."

"Is it Shadow?"

"This is a beast from within."

She recollected Van's prior erratic behavior, the crazed pendulum swing from rage to sorrow and concern to passion. "An uneasy heart breeds conflict."

"Lord Van is of a gentle nature. He is kind and does not purposely seek to hurt others." Balgus murmured. "That is why he resisted learning swordplay and bearing the burden of war. Even when enraged or pursuing vengeance, he hesitates."

"He's more willing to sacrifice himself than others." Hitomi remembered the headstrong boy with suicidal tendencies and an abnormal desire to prove himself to the world. No, he may have grown up, but that part of him hadn't changed.

"He does not charge aggressively enough." Balgus shimmered in the glass, rippling like water. "If he does not commit his heart soon, many will die."

Hitomi shook her head despondently, the emerald droplets swaying from her earlobes. "Why tell me this? Van won't listen to me. He wants nothing to do with me."

"Sometimes the gentle ones must find the courage to face storms." Balgus wavered, liquid in the twilight. "Neither of you can save Gaea alone."

Even after the goliath warrior dissolved, Hitomi loitered at the window. She pushed her forehead against the icy glass, her bangs fluffed up messily by the movement. She ruminated over Shadow and the Demons, Lucem and Plague, and her life back on Earth. Mostly, she thought of Van.

"""""""

Princess Eries marched in the center of a procession of guards, a banner man, two servants, a Knight Caeli, and her personal aid. For the sake of her business in Fanelia, she must stomach this tawdry spectacle, a show of Asturia's power. She had swapped her modest traveling clothes for the tinsel of a satin gown and constricting whalebone corset. The aquamarine of her eyes was serene and self-assured, although one side of her mouth unconsciously curled in disgust. Her straight, wheat-colored hair swung at her waist, free of frivolities like diamonds or pearls.

Led by the king's chief advisor, Sir Trigornia, they paraded through the castle, up snaking staircases, zigzagging through empty halls, and trudging past seemingly impenetrable doors. At last, they ascended to the West Wing where the private apartments of the monarch were housed. In contrast to her family's estate in Palas, White Castle was ancient and drafty. Some of its woodwork and architecture required updating, but even so, Eries appreciated the historic charm of it.

While most of the entourage occupied the outside hallway and sitting room, Sir Trigornia beckoned Eries and Allen through to a second door. He bowed as graceful as any Asturian courtier. The princess paused a moment and scowled intently at the egg of his head. He was familiar. Behind her, Allen touched a gloved hand to her elbow, ferrying her through the threshold of the door and into the adjoining room. She let the knight divert her attention, but she planned to further investigate the identity of the man, Trigornia, later.

She somberly advanced to the bed of King Van Slanzar de Fanel on its equally large and impractical dais. It was unforeseen that the ruler of Fanelia would be ill. Sir Trigornia certainly hadn't mentioned it. Yet here he was, adrift in an oversized nightshirt and sable robe, smothered by blankets and pillows. His hair, so much like a crow's wing, flopped into his eyes, his forehead without a crown or circlet. His frame was slimmer than her last visit, and his cheeks stuck out too far from his face. Purple half-moons shaded his eyelids, although his pallor retained its tawny vitality. Only the king's eyes, a resolute burgundy-brown, were unaffected, ever vigilant.

 _And the frown_ , Eries conceded. _I don't think that will ever go away._

"Your Highness, King Fanel, I greet you on behalf of my father, King Grava Aston, and my sister, Millerna Aston, the Queen Regent." Eries gripped her azure skirts and curtsied to the monarch.

King Van nodded sagely. "I thank you, Princess Eries, and offer my own salutations to your family in Asturia."

"Thank you." She flourished her skirts and rose. _He's gotten better with the formalities since last I saw him. This twaddle used to agitate him,_ she noted.

The young man's mouth eased into a half grin. "Hello, Allen."

"King Fanel." Allen Schezar surged ahead of Eries and genuflected in a single motion. Despite his stiff Caeli uniform, he moved fast. He tucked his chin down against his rose cravat, ducking his head in submission. "Your Majesty, it is good to see you."

"And you." The monarch sobered. He traced the peppery beard growth on his chin with a hand. "I must admit your visit is unexpected though."

Silence shrouded them. Wishing to finish the meeting as soon as possible and retire to a cozy bed, Eries opted to take the lead. "Please forgive the hastiness of our venture and the inconvenience to you as a result. We came here unannounced as a matter of caution."

"Caution?" One of the king's dark brows arched. "This is not simply a goodwill delegation between allies?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but no." Eries snapped her fingers, and a boy-servant with a mushroom haircut shuffled over with a silver tray. Two penned letters on thick, perfumed stationary, one from Millerna and the other from their father, sat atop it. Sir Trigornia plucked up the envelopes, mounted the steps of the dais, and delivered them to the king.

"I bring with me correspondences from my family." Eries strode around the stooped knight, her ruffled petticoats swishing. "Before reading them, I would like to clarify some matters in person."

King Van placed the envelopes in his lap. "By all means."

"I do request a private audience, Your Highness." Her eyes flicked to the King's Voice.

"That won't be necessary." The monarch crossed his arms. "Whatever you have to say, I'm sure you can trust Trigornia and Allen with it."

"If you believe that is best, King Van." Lowering her eyelashes, Eries accepted his decision. She preferred to converse confidentially, one royal to another, but she would not force the matter. She must be careful. To insult or anger the king of Fanelia would not be wise this instant. Asturia needed his cooperation.

Hells, so did she.

"You, of course, recall the Prince Regent, my brother-in-law?" She heard a creak of boot leather and the flap of a greatcoat as Allen resumed his upright station a pace behind her.

The king's eyes glazed over in memory. "Dryden Fassa? I certainly do. I owe him my life."

Eries pursed her lips. "As you may know, Dryden disappeared shortly after the Great Gaean War. He returned his ring to my sister and set out for lands unknown. In a note to his mother, he mentioned wanting to prove himself as a man, not as a merchant. He seemed compelled to help rebuild Gaea without his family's wealth, his title, or any relation to the royal line."

"I can understand his way of thinking. At one point, I might have done the same." King Van raked his fingers through his mane, making it even more windswept.

The princess furrowed her brow at the other's comment. "His selfishness has caused a problem for Asturia, namely an issue of inheritance. Father has no sons, only daughters. My older sister, Marlene, was married to Mahad of Freid, and their son has become Duke since their deaths. As such, Chid cannot be king of Asturia. And so, my father's hope for a successor rests on Millerna, hence her marriage to Meiden's oldest son. Since their union remains unconsummated, that leaves Dryden as my father's acting heir."

"Couldn't Asturia just as easily be governed by a queen?" King Van queried. "Egzardia, for instance, has been a matriarchy for generations and seen its share of prosperity."

Eries's stern features thawed slightly. "My country is not as forward thinking as Egzardia and Fanelia. Asturia's head of state has always been a king with the queen as his consort. Neither Millerna nor I would be accepted by the aristocracy as a ruler. Father's heir must be a legitimate grandson."

"Pardon me, Princess," interrupted the King's Voice, his eyes steely, "but things can change. Fanelia is a fine example of this."

"As I recall, Fanelia is traditionally a patriarchy itself," Eries remarked coolly.

Sir Trigornia twirled the end of his moustache between his fingers, cogitating. "True. It has been up until this point, but now things are a little different. While His Highness is king, he shares some of his power with an elected body of officials. If he continues on this course and is successful, then Fanelia will become something of a constitutional monarchy."

"Father would never allow something like that." The princess shook her head vehemently. The golden cuffs on her ears sparkled in the synthetic light of the sunlamps. "He believes that Asturia's strength lies in a strong, central figurehead who can control otherwise disparate merchant clans. You must understand, gentlemen, that Asturia has only been unified since my great grandfather's time."

"King Grava's heart is set on tradition, and he won't stomach anyone sitting in his throne other than Dryden until a blood heir is produced." The monarch shrugged his shoulders, the expensive cloth of his robe gossamer and sleek.

"That is correct. Forthright, but correct." Eries kept her voice level, although her fingers bit into her palms.

King Van straightened up against the headboard of his bed, his bearing regal and assertive despite his disheveled appearance. The princess almost forgot he was sick. "Which means you must be tracking the Prince Regent, and your sources told you he is somewhere in my country."

"Yes." Eries inclined her head, tendrils of her hair falling into her eyes.

"And you want Fanelia's cooperation in apprehending him," concluded Sir Trigornia, his craggy face as phonily nonchalant as her own.

"Indeed."

The room's atmosphere fairly crackled with suspicion as the conversation sank in. A log in the cavernous fireplace behind Eries cracked and split. Her nose itched, but she suppressed the impulse to scratch it.

"I'm sorry, Princess, but I won't help you." The king's gaze focused on the cavorting flames of topaz and ginger across the room. "It's against my morals to betray a friend, especially one I owe a debt to."

Eries sucked in a breath, the corset contracting excruciatingly around her ribcage. "We're allies. Must I remind you of the money Asturia invested in helping Fanelia to rebuild?"

"Which was paid back before the loan's maturity date," Sir Trigornia, in a genteel but strained tone, countered.

"Meiden Fassa is offering a reward for the return of his son." She announced the sum, a significant amount, and was impressed when neither the king nor his servant reacted with any obvious interest. They were as stoic as the priests of Jichia during a holy ceremony. "Father is also prepared to meet that same amount. Think of what you could do for Fanelia with all that money."

King Van snorted. "We aren't quite the poor bumpkins we once were, Princess Eries."

Inwardly, the princess winced. _Damn! That was the wrong angle. Insulting his finances isn't going to win over the king._

"No amount of riches will buy my loyalty. I give my friendship freely to those who have earned it. I count Dryden amongst the few who have." He ceased contemplating the fire and met her eyes. His rivaled the ruby studs in his earlobes, beautiful and intense.

She flinched and looked away grudgingly. "Then you've heard from him."

"Not for some time. Contact over the years with the Prince Regent has been sporadic, Princess Eries," Sir Trigornia confirmed, linking his hands behind his back. "He never leaves us a forwarding address, and he never bothers to tell us much of his agenda or whereabouts."

"May I inquire how long it's been since your last communication with Dryden?"

"About five or six months ago," the advisor replied.

Eries weighed her next words. "We are also aware of your search for a bride."

"Most of Gaea is by now," the king added wryly.

"And that you have yet to settle on one." Eries tensed her shoulders. "Father offers you a union with me if you swear to bring Dryden home."

The king and his advisor exchanged a skeptical, measured stare. She couldn't blame them. At twenty-six, she was a fair bit older than the Fanelian monarch and outside the ideal age range for a marriage partner. After all, a woman's fertility became an issue the more she matured, and like Asturia, Fanelia must have an heir. Still, what Eries lacked in youth or perceived fecundity she made up for in fortune and political clout. Fanelia would profit from an alliance with Asturia, no doubting that.

She just hated how Father and Meiden employed her as a bargaining chip.

Eries waited nervously for the king's response, although she kept impassive façade in place. A cold sensation crept up her arms and the back of her neck. Her belly churned and burbled, and she gulped back the half-digested remnants of her lunch. Behind her, another stick fractured in the fireplace, dined upon by the famished blaze. The room smelt of wood smoke, mysterious healing oils, and her own pungent sweat.

"I thought that you refused an arranged marriage, Princess." King Van cupped his stubbly chin in his palm.

"I have until now." She worried the latticework of lace on her sleeve. Her mouth was dry as cotton. "Father's health never fully recovered from his episode during the war. To be blunt, he's not getting any younger, and neither are his daughters."

Sir Trigornia caressed the paisley patterned cravat at his throat. "He's reminded you of your own duty. It's better to have two married daughters and double the chance of an heir while he still lives. A shrewd man."

King Van shot the advisor a threatening glare, but Eries took no offense; he was only telling the truth.

"Father and I agree Millerna is best suited to be queen. But if some misfortune befalls her before she bears a child, then carrying on the Aston bloodline passes to me." Eries blanched but maintained her composure. "I will no longer run from my responsibilities. Whether I am matched with you, King Van, or to another, Father intends to marry me to a worthwhile individual before the end of this year."

Near her, Allen's hands balled into fists so tight that the soft fabric of his cream gloves squeaked perceptibly. The barely leashed pressure emanating from him incited the fine hairs on her arms to rise. _Ignore it, ignore it_ , she ordered herself, tilting her head so that the cascade of her mane shielded her face from him. _Allen would've found out eventually._

"Again, I apologize, Princess Eries, but I must decline your country's proposal. I will not be bought by riches or swayed by the offer of a marriage contract. I will not betray my friend." The king kneaded his forehead with a hand, as if nursing a migraine, and beamed tentatively at her. "Although, it does pain me to turn down one of King Aston's lovely daughters."

She froze, immobile. Inside, she leapt for joy, as light-footed as a fairy. Eries unwound like a tinker's corkscrewed spring, her nerves relaxing. As her firm rein over herself slackened, her knees wobbled, almost collapsing in relief. She locked them, beseeching Jichia that no one noticed her feebleness. She chanced the quickest peek at Allen over her shoulder. He had schooled his expression into a guise of neutrality, as sphinxlike and detached as Eries pretended to be.

"Well, this does leave us in a bind," she babbled, almost giddy with the intoxication of freedom, no matter its brevity.

Allen's melodious voice pierced her reprieve. "King Van, Princess Eries, might I suggest a solution that will satisfy both of you?"

Three pairs of eyes peered inquisitively at the knight. He went down on his knee once more. His frame curved like an archer's bow. Allen's hair spilt down his back like yellow silk to his tapered waist, assembled in a sinuous horsetail. The cobalt of his uniform jacket accentuated his eyes, that almost overwhelming sky-hue. He cast them briefly on her, trapping her in their indecipherable splendor, before proceeding on to the king.

"Go on, Allen," encouraged King Van, genuinely listening.

"Sire, please allow us to stay for a time in Fanelia. We will not bother you about the Prince Regent again, so you will not be compromising any of your personal values. Instead, my men and I will locate him ourselves. All we need is your permission to search the Capital and the surrounding countryside," the knight explained, gesturing fluidly with his hand.

The king pondered this proposition, his mouth quirking. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "And what do I get out of this bargain?"

"Whatever Your Majesty desires that is within my ability to grant." Allen chuckled, a striking, unguarded display. "Although you wouldn't begrudge an old friend a favor or two either, would you?"

The King's Voice grunted, articulating his displeasure. "A favor. There it is! The real angle, Your Highness."

King Van shushed his advisor with a brusque wave of his hand. "I can spare a favor or two. All right, Allen. Princess Eries and you may stay."

"Thank you, Sire." Allen laid his fist over his heart.

"However, you will spar with me daily. I must build up my strength again." The king frowned down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them, dissatisfied with the muscles there. "As for you, Princess Eries, I would like for you to make social calls amongst the ladies here at White Castle. A cheerful face with news from abroad will lift some of the boredom plaguing them."

 _I'm to be entertainment._ Eries glowered at King Van, shrewdly evaluating the situation. _You're still dragging your feet about choosing a bride. I wonder if you even actually have anyone in mind._

Then something else occurred to the princess, something which twisted her gut with new trepidation. "Sire, amongst your guests, do you have anyone from Cesario?"

Sir Trigornia brushed off the lapels of his waistcoat and sniffed. "Certainly, Princess Eries. King Henrio Cesarie sent five charming noblewomen from his court."

"Would any of them be closely related to King Cesarie?" Her thin, fastidiously tweezed eyebrows converged over her nose and formed a vertical wrinkle.

"Why, yes." The King's Voice was almost gleeful, as if he guessed the cause of Eries's agitation. He smirked at her through his groomed mustache. "The niece of King Cesarie, Clayris Cesarie, happens to be in White Castle."

A crimson flush tinted Eries's cheeks. She perspired, her body responding honestly to her abrupt temper. Her dress adhered to her like a clammy shell, sticking to her underarms, back, and bosom. She smeared her wet palms over the satin skirts of her gown. The crescent moons of her nails dug into her palms. It was laughable; she feigned being an ice princess but burned with exasperation and ire.

 _Father and Meiden set me up. They completely outmaneuvered me,_ she admitted resentfully. _I took up the cause of locating Dryden to get away from Palas. I should've known they agreed too readily. Finding Dryden was only a part of their plot. They must've known Clayris was in Fanelia. With her here, it's the perfect excuse for those numbskulls, her cousins, to follow me. Damn them to the deepest, foulest pits of all the hells!_

Nowhere on Gaea was Eries safe from King Aston's princely suitors.

"""""""

The cherub clock dinged, proclaiming the hour to be eleven in the evening. Hitomi groaned and roused herself from a nap. The room was shadowy in the subdued illumination from the sunlamp; someone had turned it down to the lowest setting. Her forehead ached from where it had rested on her folded arms. She had slept in the upholstered chair at the table, hunched over the book on Daedalus. The Mystic Moonling stretched her arms over head and swiveled from side to side, grimacing as she loosened cramps. She wedged a cloth bookmark into the tome and closed the cover with a thud.

Most of the afternoon Hitomi had spent on high alert for Trigornia's guide. Aside from Berta with more food, the only newcomer had been an elderly maid to empty the chamber pot. She had stalked the crone wolfishly, anticipating any second to be steered discreetly from the guestroom by the woman and instructed where to go from there. Instead, the old lady had cleared her throat and questioned if Hitomi needed the chamber pot back so soon. Embarrassed and comprehending this poor soul was not Trigornia's underling, she had slunk away to let the maid work, chastising herself.

Chin in hand at the table, she speculated, _Did Trigornia forget? No, he doesn't seem like the type that would. Someone will surely come._

For entertainment, Hitomi fetched her backpack from under the bed and took out her running shoes. She checked them over for any visible signs of damage. Aside from some dirt, they were fine. Kicking off the clonky slippers, she wriggled her feet into her remaining pair of socks and snugly tied the shoes. She jogged the length of the room, testing the cushion of the heels and acclimating herself to the Earth footwear.

With her wardrobe consisting of only a nightgown and her current dress, she opted to stay in the latter. She inserted her deck of tarot cards into the space between her breasts, concealed by both her undergarments and bodice. Only a diminutive lump betrayed what lay there. She lingered over the husk of the pendant on the tabletop. The onyx stone, spiked by a filigree horn and foot, twinkled up at her. Though broken, it inexplicably directed her fingers to affix it around her neck. It dangled like a deceased beetle against her collar bone, its chain a noose.

 _Maybe there's something else I can layer over this dress_ , she thought, craving a distraction from the pendant and the memories associated with it. She piddled around the room, exploring. Hitomi moused through the closet behind the tapestry of the sister moons and emerged with only a musty blanket and a fit of sneezes. The armoire, with its scrollwork of squirrels and birds, was more useful. She rescued an earth-brown cloak from inside of it. The garment had been patched on several occasions and smelt keenly of cedar, but it was warm and fell to her ankles. As much as Hitomi adored the exquisite hummingbird robe, it was impractical for this errand.

She caped the cloak around her shoulders and inspected her reflection in the mirror attached to one of the doors of the armoire. As she knotted the strings of the garment and adjusted the hood around her neck, Hitomi distinguished a shift in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, a tenebrous person in a mantle of his own, the face hidden by a cowl, padded towards her. He was just outside the area of the mirror, so she hadn't paid attention to him before. A shiver stole up her spine, and her heart percussed like a set of bongo drums in her chest. Nostrils flaring, she faked wiping away grime on her dress, not wishing for the person to fathom she had seen him.

He drifted towards her, hushed as snowfall. Limber legs in fitted, ebon pants poked out from the divided front of the mantle. Two steps, three steps. She warily scrutinized the figure, all the while fussing over the lacework of her dress. He possessed a preternatural grace and speed but was definitely corporeal. There was no otherworld aura surrounding him and no intuitive warning from her gift. The individual approached nearer and raised wide, leather-gloved hands. Hitomi's eyes alighted on the contour of a samurai sword through the other's cloak.

Just as the stranger's hands descended, Hitomi pivoted on her left heel and drove her right foot into the shin of her attacker. The shoe was a blur of white and lavender, and her toes smarted from the solid impact with bone. A yelp echoed through the room. She lunged for the hilt of the man's sword, pawing aside the creases of his mantle. He recovered fast; his hands clamped down on her wrists and yanked them away from his sword. She scuffled with the brute, yelling for the guard and struggling to liberate herself from her foe. When half a minute ticked by and no one stormed in to rescue her, she knew she was on her own.

"""""""

 **To Be Continued**

"""""""

At last, more of the Escaflowne cast arrives! I always liked Balgus and Eries. Wouldn't it have been nice if their roles had been fleshed out a bit more? Oh, well, that's what fan fictions are for! Lol! For me, it was a lot of fun delving deeper into Eries.

On another note, I want to thank Meggy-chan and VerveCreative for being the newest reviewers. My gratitude is boundless to all the regular readers as well. Your feedback really makes my day. You're all super amazing!

Oh, and to answer a few people's question: yes, there will be more lovey-dovey moments in this story. However, I also want to point out that this fan fiction, despite its title, is more than just romance, and that is due to Escaflowne itself having encompassed so much. I want to live up to the kind of story Escaflowne is/was. So, that means love and romance will manifest alongside other events and as the plot allows. Until then, I ask for your patience and understanding.

That's all for now, my darlings! Thank you, as always, for sticking around. Please read and review! ^_^


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